


The Family Business

by Maisey2k10



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Family, Humour, Post-War, Romance, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 173,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22727227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maisey2k10/pseuds/Maisey2k10
Summary: Hermione's peaceful, yet boring life is disrupted when notorious hunter, Dean Winchester, walks into her book shop. Dean's life is completely changed when he meets, Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch of her Age. But maybe that's just what they both needed. Buckle up and strap in. It's going to be one hell of a bumpy ride. Mostly Dean's POV. Rated for language, violence and sexual content. HGxDW pairing! Writing in Progress!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Dean Winchester
Comments: 31
Kudos: 198





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own canon events and characters, they belong to J.K Rowling and the creators of Supernatural. I am not making a profit from writing and posting this fanfic.
> 
> I know I promised to only post completed and re-edited works but I couldn't help myself. After seeing the response I got to 'The Witch and The Hunters' and 'Home', I just had to give you this one, too. And I'm having so much fun writing it. I'm currently working on 15 WIPs as well as editing previous, completed works, so updates for this might be a little slow, but I will get it done eventually. I don't even know how long this is going to be. I usually plan everything out down to the last, tiniest detail, but not this one. This one, I'm winging, and I'm loving it so far. 
> 
> I'm trying to stick to canon as much as possible whilst also making a few changes when necessary, especially with the added main character of Hermione and having the use of magic in their lives. I hope you enjoy as much as I love writing it. 
> 
> Page Count:39
> 
> I know, massive first chapter!

"James, Albus, I will not tell you again!" Hermione called from her place standing behind the counter, her eyes spying the two little boys through the bookshelves.

"We're being good, Aunt 'Mione," the five-year-old called back.

"I don't believe that for a second. Do not draw in the books, I gave you paper for a reason," she replied.

Reaching up she ran a hand through her hair, looking up to the clock on the wall above the entrance to her shop. As much as she loved her Godchildren, she couldn't wait until they were collected by Harry in a little over two hours time. She'd had the boys for the last few days, watching over them whilst Harry and Ginny spent some time together after recently discovering Ginny was pregnant with their third child.

She picked up the stack of books from the counter and made her way around her shop, putting them back in all their correct places, and then she heard the little bell above the door alerting her to someone entering the shop. She quickly checked that the boys were alright before heading back to the counter, her eyes widening slightly at the sight that met her. One of the most handsome men she'd ever seen.

She'd estimate him to be around her age of twenty-six and he was definitely taller than her, looking to be around six-foot. He had light brown hair that was spiked up at the front, chiselled features and she noticed that his eyes were a beautiful green with a few flecks of brown. He wore dark, well-worn jeans, black boots on his feet, a grey t-shirt and a checked shirt left open over the top and his hands were casually stuffed in the pockets of his black leather jacket.

Hermione knew that it had been far too long since her last sexual partner when she found herself practically drooling over him, but she shook her head and pulled herself together. She was better than that! Hermione Granger did not swoon over men, no matter how handsome.

His eyes swept around the room cautiously before his gaze landed on her, his eyes seeming to light up at the sight of her and his mouth twitched into a smile as he stood taller. Taking a breath, she put a friendly smile on her face and slowly approached him, clasping her hands together in front of her body.

"Hello, is there anything I can help you with?"

His eyes scanned her body before his smile widened, showing her a perfect smile and little dimples making an appearance. Merlin, Hermione thought, there was just no need for him to be so good looking.

~000~000~000~

Dean pulled up to the curb and put the Impala in park, before turning off the ignition and climbing out of the car, his eyes sweeping his new surroundings. He saw several buildings with their doors open, ready to welcome in customers, trees dotted about on the pavement and people mulling about lazily in the heat of the afternoon sun. He scanned the buildings, seeing a clothing store, a diner, a coffee shop, a pizzeria and a convenience store, before landing on the one he was searching for, _Granger's Tomes_ ,' a book store.

Looking over the building, the windows were gleaming in the sunlight and the brown paintwork looked recent, leading him to believe that this store had either been given a re-vamp or it was a lot newer than the other businesses on the street.

He was on a case and needed some research material and without access to a laptop, and the book store being closer than the library, he decided to take his chances and see if they had anything of use to him.

Running a hand through his hair he made his way to the door, a smirk pulling at his mouth when a group of college girls walked past him, whispering and giggling to themselves as they looked back at him over their shoulders. Sending them a wink, which only seemed to encourage them further, he pushed open the door and the little bell above sounded.

Looking around, he saw the plain beige walls and the dark brown carpet, the counter being at the front with shelved books covering the majority of the wall behind it. Bookcases filled the smallish room and he noticed an area in the corner, filled with bean bags and children's books and toys, as well a small table and chairs with a storage unit off to the side, clearly labelled with 'colouring pencils,' 'paper' and 'arts and crafts.'

He heard giggling and searched for the one responsible but not seeing anyone, leading him to believe it was a child and there was likely someone else in the store, too.

Hearing footsteps, he pulled his eyes towards the sound and he felt his eyes widen slightly at the young woman that approached him. There was no denying she was beautiful with her mahogany coloured hair falling down her back in wild, riotous curls he could imagine himself happily burying his hands in. Or with her big chocolate brown eyes that were surrounded by dark lashes, or her pale skin, red plump lips and heart-shaped face. His eyes trailed her figure, seeing her being smaller than him by several inches and he took note of the clothing she wore; a black long-sleeved t-shirt, a pair of dark jeans that hugged her hips and ass and a pair of black knee-high boots. She looked comfortable and certainly not like she was out to impress anyone.

As she neared closer she clasped her hands together in front of her body and a kind smile pulled at her face, showing her perfect smile and her nose scrunching up in a way that he had to admit, was quite cute. He locked his eyes with hers and was surprised by what he saw hidden in her big brown orbs. There was kindness and understanding there, but hidden behind that was sadness and pain - a feeling, a knowing as if she knew the dangers of the world and the horrors that happened every day and he knew that all too well given the lifestyle he led.

He was usually, a good judge of character and he got the feeling that this woman before him, despite her smaller size and non-threatening presence, that she was anything but. He got the feeling that if push came to shove, she'd know exactly how to defend herself. He recognised the way her eyes darted to the exits in the room, the way she briefly scanned her surroundings as if checking for threats or taking in the number of people around her, even the way she held her body as if she were expecting an attack. He'd seen all these things in himself, so it had him curious, just who was this woman?

"Hello, is there anything I can help you with?"

She was British! He hadn't expected that and now that he knew she worked there, he was surprised by it given her beauty. She wasn't anything like the stereotypical book store employee he'd thought he'd see. He'd expected an old woman with glasses and frumpy clothing and she couldn't be any further from that if she tried. Her accent had just made her all the more interesting, he thought.

He gave her his most charming smile, yet she didn't falter with her own, or simper or blush. Well, that didn't happen often, he thought in surprise. He wasn't above using his charm and good looks to get him what he wanted, and the majority of the time, it worked.

"I was wondering if you had anything on the supernatural."

She raised an eyebrow at him and her mouth seemed to twitch in amusement.

"You're not one of those 'I think my neighbour's a werewolf' or 'I'm convinced my Uncle's a vampire' kind of people, are you?"

He snorted, her question amusing him. "Get a lot of those, do you?"

"Yes, also the 'I think my dog's possessed by the devil' and 'my basement is the gateway to hell' type, too. It certainly makes my day interesting," she replied. "Anyway, are you buying or sitting in?"

"Excuse me?" He asked confused.

"Are you wishing to buy a book, or are you going to read whilst here?"

"You allow people to do that?" He asked. How did she ever make money if people could read the book they wanted to in the store?

"Yes, there's a lot of financially struggling families around here and I get a few kids who can't afford the books they need or want, so I allow them to read them whilst in the store."

"Oh, then reading," he tilted his head.

"Right this way," she said, turning on her heel and beckoning for him to follow after her with a finger. He'd be lying if he said he didn't look at her ass as she led the way, but when he heard giggles, he stopped in his steps and looked around for the source of the noise.

"Sorry about that," the woman spoke, giving a little sigh. "James, Albus, you better not be doing something you're not supposed to be," she called.

"We're not, I promise," the voice of a young boy called back, and he was British, too.

"I don't believe him, he's just like his father," she said, shaking her head in exasperation. They came to a stop at four bookcases from the back wall of the store and she turned to face him. "Right then, the top two shelves are witchcraft and wiccan," she said, her mouth twitching at the corners, as if she had an inside joke no one else knew. "The bottom two shelves are voodoo and rituals. Behind me, you'll find beings on the top shelf, beasts on the middle and spirits on the bottom. There's a table and chairs just behind that bookcase," she pointed it out, "And at the back of the shop, you'll find a couch and armchairs. So, I'll leave you to it, if you need anything just give me a shout and I'll be right over."

She turned and stepped away, but he stopped her movements with his words.

"But I don't know your name," he said.

She looked over her shoulder at him, seeming to be amused. "Hermione, my name's Hermione."

Pretty name, he thought.

"Dean," he replied.

"Nice to meet you, now I better wrangle the kids together and I'll do my best to keep them out of your way." With that, she turned and left him alone.

He watched her retreating back until she disappeared from view and he turned his attention to the beasts and beings section.

~000~000~000~

It was an hour later when Dean heard footsteps approaching and given the quiet sound and the slow pace, he knew it to be Hermione. He'd been doing research in silence and his eyes were starting to hurt and his neck was beginning to cramp, it being one of the reasons he _hated_ the research aspect of his job. Well, that and it was boring.

"Sorry to bother you," she said, giving him a friendly smile.

A smile pulled at his face in response. "You're a welcome distraction," he replied.

She raised an eyebrow, looking amused by his words. "I just wanted to see if you wanted a cuppa."

"A what?"

"Cuppa, a cup of tea or coffee," she explained.

"Oh, coffee would be great," he grinned.

"Alright then, coffee it is," she said, turning on her heel and disappearing once more.

He turned his eyes back to the pages in front of him but he soon became aware of someone watching him. His body tensing slightly and his hand moving towards his gun, he lifted his head before sighing, seeing it was just a little boy, no older than three. He was watching Dean curiously with his bright green eyes and his head tilted to the side slightly, his dark hair being messy in a way that reminded him of his little brother. He wore jeans and a t-shirt, there being several stains on both, one looking to be grass, one mud, one pen and the other ketchup. Well, the kid had obviously had a fun day.

"Me, Albus," the little boy said.

"Hi, I'm Dean," he replied.

He tilted his head to the other side and Dean had the sinking suspicion the child was trying to stare into his very soul. That's what it felt like at least.

"You read," he said, finally relenting with his piercing gaze and holding out a children's book to him expectantly.

"Err..." Dean said, his eyes darting about for the kid's mother but not seeing anyone around. "Sure," he said, accepting the book from the little boy and looking down at it, _The Cat in the Hat_. He remembered reading it to Sam when he was just a kid.

Dean watched bemused as the little boy climbed up onto the couch beside him, getting himself comfortable and he leaned closer to Dean so he would be able to see the pictures as he read aloud.

Opening the book to the first page, Dean cleared his throat and began reading. "The sun did not shine. It was too wet to play. So we sat in the house. All that cold, cold, wet day..."

They'd barely gotten a few pages in when he heard footsteps and he looked up to see Hermione approaching with a mug in her hand and a disapproving look held on the little child sat beside him.

"Albus, I asked you not to disturb the nice man."

"He read me a story," the little boy said with a frown and crossing his arms over his chest.

"If only your father could see you now," she muttered, shaking her head. "Off you go, Little Man, James has snacks and he'll eat them all if you don't get there fast enough."

That seemed to do the trick as the little boy soon jumped down off the couch and disappeared in the maze of books.

Hermione snorted. "Definitely has Weasley genes," she said to herself, before she placed the steaming mug down on the coffee table in front of him. "I'm sorry he disrupted you."

"It's no problem, I needed the distraction," he replied. "Is he yours?" He asked curiously, noting that he hadn't looked anything like her.

She laughed at him lightly and shook her head, before taking a seat on the armchair opposite him. "Goodness, no," she laughed. "Both he and his older brother, James, are my nephews. I'm just watching them for a few days so their parents can have a bit of a break from them."

"So you don't have kids?"

"No, at the moment I much prefer being an Aunt. I get all the cuddles, I get to spoil them rotten and give them all the things their parents won't allow and when they start pushing my buttons, I give them back to their parents. Job done," she said smiling and he chuckled at her. "So, have you found what you're looking for?"

"No," he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Do you need any help?" She asked.

He raised an eyebrow. "You know anything about mythical and imaginary supernatural beings?"

Her mouth twitched, the same way it had when she'd mentioned witchcraft and wiccan, as if she had an inside joke he knew nothing about.

"You could say it's my speciality subject."

He eyed her curiously and went to reply, but their attention was drawn when the bell above the door rang.

"Hermione!" A male voice called out.

"Excuse me a moment," she said, and she stood and left him to his coffee and research.

Snapping the book shut, Dean stood and returned it to the bookcase, when he caught sight of Hermione and what looked to be a teenage boy. Seeing the way they were huddled close and whispering to each other as if they didn't want their conversation to be overheard, he moved closer, only to see Hermione open a door he hadn't noticed before and she ushered the teenager inside before following after him and closing the door behind her. His curiosity got the better of him and he walked over to the door, trying the handle but it was locked. Frowning, he made his way back over to the bookcases and lied in wait for them to exit, and that didn't happen for twenty minutes.

"Remember to bring it back, Lucian. That book's worth a lot of money and if falls into the wrong hands, it can be dangerous," Hermione spoke as she closed the door behind her after exiting the room.

"I'll be careful with it and I promise to bring it back by lunch tomorrow," the teenager replied, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"Alright, you better get home before your mother starts to worry," she said, shooing him away. She brought her hands up and ran them through her hair, before she left in search of the two giggling boys he could hear.

He wondered what that exchange was about, but knew he probably wouldn't get answers. He returned to the couch with a new book and sipped at his coffee as he lazily flicked through the pages, boredom having long since settled in.

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you that we're closing in ten minutes. I wouldn't mind staying open later for you, but I have to get the kids home," Hermione spoke as she stepped around a bookcase and into his view.

"I understand," he said, closing the book and standing from the couch.

"Anything useful?"

"Nope," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I'll have to come back tomorrow, will you be working?"

She looked amused at his question and clasped her hands in front of her. "Yes, I do own the place, after all."

"You _own_ it?" He said surprised.

"Yes, _I_ own it. I'm Hermione Granger. Why so surprised?"

He cleared his throat. "Just never took you as the book store owning type," he replied, his eyes tracing her frame.

"You obviously didn't know me in school," she said amused. "I suppose I'll see you tomorrow, Dean."

~000~000~000~

After leaving the book store and its pretty owner behind, Dean had spent a few hours chasing down leads in hopes it would give him a breakthrough on the case, but nothing had panned out and he'd been left with dead ends. Needing a drink after the long, boring day he'd had, he decided to find the nearest bar to his motel and head out for a well-deserved beer.

Stepping into the bar, he noted that it was a lot cleaner than the ones he usually found himself in, but it was still very much a seedy-looking place with the old and worn down furnishings and decor, the low lighting and the well used pool tables. After surveying the other patrons and not deeming any of them to be suspicious, he made his way straight to the bar, sitting himself down on a stool and waiting for the bartender to finish with another customer.

"Are you following me?" A very familiar British voice spoke and he felt his mouth twitch into a smile.

He turned around in his seat, seeing none other than Hermione stood behind him and his eyes travelled her body, seeing that although she wore the same clothes he'd last saw her in, her hair was pulled up into a messy bun with some of her wild curls having gotten loose, and she wore a black leather jacket, too. His like for little woman just increased. If he found out she loved old school rock, too, he'd consider marrying her. His eyes moved back to her face, seeing that she looked amused by his obvious ogling of her and she crossed her arms over her chest and cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Well, are you?"

"Just a coincidence, although I can't say I'm not happy about it," he replied, putting on his most charming smile. For the second time that day, she didn't falter.

"So I noticed," she said, speaking of the obvious eye-fucking he'd just given her.

"What can I get ya?" The bartender asked, coming over to stand in front of Dean.

He turned to give his answer but was soon stopped from doing so, when a brawl suddenly broke out by one of the pool tables, the majority of the patrons not batting an eyelash.

"Ah Hell," the bartender muttered, before stepping out from behind the bar and making his way over to the two fighting men to break them apart and throw them out.

Dean blinked in surprise when Hermione walked up to the counter, hopped up onto the surface and then jumped down on the other side of the bar.

"What's your poison?" She asked him.

"Did you really just do that?" He asked in disbelief, but feeling amused by it, too. He noted the way she moved about the bar with ease, this likely not being the first time she'd done something like this.

"Yep, so, what I can I get you?" She asked. He shook his head and told her his order of a beer, and she pulled two from the fridges, removed the caps and settled them on the counter. "Two beers, Tony!" Hermione called.

"Got it!" The bartender shouted back, just ducking a blow that would've given him a black eye had he not moved when he did.

He chuckled at her when she hopped back up onto the counter and jumped down onto the ground on his side before she took the stool next to him and picked up the beer she'd gotten for herself.

"Is it always like this?" He asked, gesturing to the brawling men and then to the counter, where she'd been a temporary bartender.

She shrugged her shoulders. "There's usually one fight a night, two if there's a poker game, three if there's a pool tournament and four if there's some sort of sport's game."

"So you spend a lot of time here, then?" He asked curiously, not taking her as the type to do so. A beautiful woman, who owned a book store, seemed to be one of the kindest people he'd met and that regularly hung out in a seedy bar? Seriously, who was this woman?

"It's better than drinking at home on your own. At least here there's someone to help take your mind off things, and there's always someone to converse with."

"And what are you trying to avoid in being here tonight?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Everyone has problems, Dean, and everyone has demons. Some worse than others. People deal with them differently, but I like to do so with a drink or two," she said.

Her eyes glazed over and a far off look appeared on her face before she snapped out of it when the sound of glass smashing startled her. He hadn't been blind to the way her hand had reached for the sleeve of her jacket, as if reaching for a weapon. He'd never been so intrigued by a woman than he was by the one sat next to him.

"So what are your demons?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she sighed, before picking up her beer bottle and taking a rather large swig.

He knew when someone no longer wanted to talk about something, so he dropped the subject.

"Where are the kids?" He asked, taking a swig from his own bottle.

"Their father picked them up a couple of hours ago, thank God. As much as I love them, I've had a permanent headache from the moment they arrived at my house."

Dean snorted in amusement. "So, you're a long way from home. What brought you here?"

"Here to the US or more specifically, here to Colorado?"

"Either, both," he shrugged his shoulders.

She took another swig from her beer and watched him with wary eyes. "A lot of things, to be honest. I moved here three years ago, not long after my twenty-third birthday," she answered.

Doing the math, Dean noted that made her the same age as him. And while she did look young, younger than her age actually, there was something about her that just made her seem older.

"Why?"

"I needed a change, I couldn't take it anymore. I just needed peace. My job was highly stressful and it put myself and others in dangerous situations. After six years, I just snapped. I couldn't do it anymore. So I packed up my things and prepared to move. I wasn't sure where to go at first; I just knew I had to get out of Britain. But then I was headhunted and offered a job in Washington, and while I did turn the offer down, I realised that I'd always wanted to see what it was like over the pond. In regards to Colorado, I just closed my eyes and pointed to the map, and here I am."

He watched her with curious eyes as she fiddled with the beer bottle and her eyes were focused on a speck of dirt on the counter.

"What was your job?"

"I can't tell you," she said. He raised an eyebrow. "All I can say is I worked for my government, everything else is classified information."

That had him more curious that he ought to be, he realised. But if her job had been stressful and dangerous and she'd worked for the British government in a classified section, it made sense that she'd likely be familiar with weapons, which is why she'd reached for her sleeve when being startled. It was a reflex reaction and he wondered if she still carried weapons with her, legally or otherwise.

"And you chose to open a book store?" He questioned.

She shrugged her shoulders. "My life has always been chaotic and filled with danger, even as a child. Books were my solace, my escape from it all. It allowed me to just forget about the things that were happening around me for a little while. So when I moved here I opened my book shop, hoping it would help me, hoping it would make me happy."

"And has it?" He asked, his eyes searching her face for any sign that she was about to lie to him.

She opened her mouth to respond but the sound of a chair being broken interrupted her and Hermione sighed.

"Alright, this has gone on long enough," she said, sounding annoyed.

She stood from the stool, brought her hand up to her mouth and whistled loudly. "That is enough!" She said, her voice not quite shouting, but definitely loud enough to be heard by everyone in the room. At the sound of her voice, the two brawlers broke apart and were sporting various injuries.

"You are grown men, grow the hell up. Kevin, Frankie didn't cheat at pool, you're just shit at it." She said.

Dean's eyebrows rose high on his forehead at the use of her language, and at the two grown men who put their heads down in shame, refusing to look at her, and two big ass, burly bikers, at that.

"I shall expect the both of you to apologise to each other, to apologise to Tony for your behaviour, to clean up the mess you've made, to pay for the damages you've caused and to then go home and sober up. Do I make myself clear?" They both nodded slowly, not looking at her. "Do I make myself clear?" She repeated, her hands coming up to her hips and her foot tapping away on the ground in annoyance.

Dean found it very hard not to laugh at the way the two men suddenly gulped and looks of fear crossed their faces.

"Yes, Hermione," they muttered.

"Good, now no dilly-dallying around, get this mess cleaned up," she instructed, before sitting down once more, picking up her beer and finishing off the rest of it in one go.

"You've got to be the most amusing woman I've ever met," Dean heard himself say.

"Glad to be of service," she replied, tipping her empty bottle towards him slightly. "In any case, I better go; I've a shop to open in the morning."

She dug into her pocket, pulled out some cash and left it on the counter. He noted that there was more than enough to cover her own beer, as well as a tip.

"It's on me," she said, gesturing to his beer before she stood from her stool and made for the door.

"You never answered my question?" He said.

"You're right," she replied without looking at him. "I didn't."

~000~000~000~

The next day found Dean walking up to the book store and stepping inside, an hour after opening. The bell above jingled and his eyes swept the store, not seeing or hearing anyone else.

"Have a hangover?" His new favourite Brit asked, stepping out from what he guessed to be the backroom and stepping behind the counter.

"Hangover free," he replied.

Given that he drove to the bar, he didn't want to risk being pulled over when being drunk, so he'd only had the one beer. The beer _she'd_ bought for him. He couldn't say a woman had done that for him before; it was usually the other way around. After finishing his beer, he left the bar not ten minutes after she had, finding that he had no one else to converse with. Well, no one that could amuse him the way she did.

"Good, I haven't got any aspirin so you would've had to suffer," she said. He snorted at her. "Cuppa?"

"Love one," he grinned.

He'd stopped for something to eat on the way over but hadn't actually had a coffee yet. He was surprised he wasn't biting the pretty book store owner's head off actually. He couldn't deny he was a pain in the ass without his morning cup of coffee.

"I'll bring it over," she said, giving him a smile and disappearing into the back room once more.

Knowing the way, he found himself back at the supernatural section, grabbed a book he'd yet to look through and took a seat on the couch. Hermione soon appeared with a steaming mug in hand and she set it down on the coffee table.

"You know where I am if you need me," she said, before leaving him to his research.

He was a little disappointed that she hadn't stayed to talk with him a little longer, but he knew he had a job to do. While there hadn't been any more bodies found in the couple of days he'd been in town, that didn't mean the one responsible was finished killing or that it wasn't still there, because it most likely was.

Several hours passed and since then, Dean had skimmed through countless books, gotten a headache and almost dozed off several times, and still, he'd found nothing remotely useful. He would've lost hope if it weren't for the other one hundred and odd books that he had left to look through. Scratch that, he thought about offing himself right then and there.

"Dean, you hungry!" Hermione called from across the other side of the store.

He had to give it to the woman; she certainly knew exactly when he needed a distraction. And actually, he was starving.

"Yeah, why, you closing for lunch?" He asked, loud enough for her to hear.

"No, but I have some pie in the fridge if you want some!"

Dean's head had never snapped up so fast. "Pie?" He questioned.

"Yes, pie, you want some!"

"I'd never turn down pie!" He called back, putting his book off to the side, standing from the couch and making his way through the maze of bookcases and to the counter.

By the time he got there a stool was positioned on the other side of the counter and Hermione was sat behind it. Two plates sat on the surface along with two forks, a kitchen knife, two sodas and a large homemade pie. Dean practically drooled at the sight. He sat himself on the stool and waited for her to cut her own slice, before accepting the knife from her and cutting a much larger slice for himself.

Seeing her amused expression, he said, "I love pie," he shrugged.

"And rightly so, pie's awesome," she replied.

Okay, it was official. He'd never liked a woman more than he did the one right in front of him.

"This one's apple and blackcurrant, the children requested it but forgot to take it home with them. I baked it the night before last, so it's still fresh."

He wasted no time in shoving a huge forkful into his mouth, a sound of appreciation leaving him. Damn, it was good pie!

"I take it you like it," she said amused, especially when she only got a hum and nod in reply, Dean being too busy shoving another forkful into his mouth to speak. "Well, there's a blueberry pie if you wish to take it with you."

"Really?" He mumbled around the food in his mouth and she snorted at him.

"Yes, once a week I bake a blueberry pie for Peter, he works across the street at the cafe. In return, he gives me a freshly made lasagne, but he hasn't been by this morning, which I admit, is unusual for him," she mused. "Anyway, I'm not fond of blueberries, so you can have it if you want it." He nodded. "What's your favourite flavour?" She asked curiously.

"The classic all American apple," he responded.

"I'm quite partial to pumpkin myself, but I do love a good chicken and mushroom pie."

"You put meat in pies?" He asked surprised.

"Yep, and they're delicious. It's one thing I miss about England, the food. I mean, the US does have some rather tasty dishes, and I pretty much devour twinkies whenever I see them..." He snorted at her. "But I miss English food; Yorkshire puddings, fish and chips, chip butties, jaffa cakes, steak and kidney pies, corn beef and potato pies and I swear, I'd murder to have a Cornish pasty right now," she sighed.

"I haven't even heard of half of them," he said.

"You're missing out, I'm telling you. You can't beat a hot Cornish pasty on a cold day."

"I'll take your word for it," he spoke amused.

Hearing the bell above the door jingle, they both turned their attention to it, seeing a middle-aged man step in. He had a balding head, a pair of glasses perched on his small nose and wore an ugly sweater vest and corduroy trousers.

"Here we go," Hermione muttered. Dean raised an eyebrow and Hermione put a friendly smile on her face. "Phillip, it's been a while. What can I help you with?" She said.

The man narrowed his eyes suspiciously before giving a sniff and tilting his chin up. "I believe the leprechauns have corrupted Ms. Patterson, and George is acting fairly odd, too."

Dean turned away from the man and did his best not to laugh at the scene playing out in front of him. She hadn't been kidding; she did get _those_ type of people. Hermione's expression made it all the more amusing, she kept a polite smile on her face and nodded along, but Dean reckoned she was contemplating stabbing the man. Especially since he was now rattling on about his neighbour being abducted by aliens and his nephew dating a fairy.

"You know the way, Phillip," Hermione interrupted, "I'll have a bag ready for you," she said.

He gave her a look of disdain before turning and heading straight to the supernatural section. The moment he disappeared from view Dean's laughter bubbled out of him and Hermione reached over and smacked him on the shoulder.

"It's not funny," she fumed, only making him laugh harder. "I told you, I got customers like that."

"Yeah, but that's just taking the piss," he said through his laughter. "There's no way he was being serious about his cat being possessed by Satan because he's gay."

She slapped at his shoulder once more and put a smile on her face when Phillip approached with an armful of books and he put them on the counter.

"What are you laughing at?" He asked Dean with a suspicious narrowing of the eyes.

Dean's laughter didn't stop; he couldn't, so he just turned away from him, putting his back to him. Dean could practically feel the glare trying to burn a hole right through him.

"Good luck, Phillip, and I do hope your sister's dog hasn't been bitten by a vampire," she said after taking payment and putting the books into a bag. Dean's laughter didn't stop.

With a glare and a huff, Phillip left out of the door and Hermione reached over to smack at Dean's shoulder for the third time in ten minutes.

"Stop it,"

"I can't," he wheezed, his hands coming up to hold his sides as they'd started to ache.

"You're on the verge of peeing yourself." He shook his head at her. "Right, that's it. No more pie," she said.

The moment those words left her lips and she reached for the leftover pie, Dean batted her hands away from it and held the plate against him protectively as he slowly calmed down. Hell, he couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed like that. In fact, he didn't think he'd ever had a laugh where his sides had hurt, his eyes had watered and he'd struggled to breathe.

"Sorry,"

"No, you're not," she said instantly, before picking up her fork and having another bite of pie and he did the same, but he had to cut himself another slice as he'd already eaten his.

"So, where are you from as you're obviously not from around here? Are you passing through?" She asked, leaning over the counter with her forearms pressed to the surface, holding her up.

"Just passing through," he nodded. "As for where I'm from, everywhere," he shrugged. She raised an eyebrow. "I grew up on the road, I was never in a place longer than a couple of weeks. And I've followed in my father's footsteps, I travel for a living."

"I've always wanted to travel," she said. "When I was younger I visited Paris and went skiing in Switzerland with my parents. And I sometimes had to travel for my job, too, but I never had the time to appreciate where I was or what was around me. By the time I'd finished the job, I had to return home as I had another assignment waiting for me. Someday I might just take some time away from here and do a bit of travelling around the States. I know there's some amazing sights."

"Strange ones, too," he replied, memories of the strange things he'd seen during his travels flashing through his mind.

"I've heard," she said, sounding amused, before looking up when the bell above the door went once more.

"Hey, Hermione," said the teenage boy that entered through the doors.

His blue eyes were hidden behind thick glasses and his copper hair looked windswept. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looked to Dean nervously. Dean raised an eyebrow in response, especially when he saw the teen's eyes dart between him, Hermione and the locked door he'd seen the day before.

"Hi, Ben, research?" She asked with a smile. He nodded. "Come on then," she said.

She stepped out from behind the counter and moved over to the locked door, which she and the teen stepped through. A few minutes later she stepped back out and Dean noticed that she locked the door behind her.

"What's behind there?" He gestured to the door in question when she retook her seat.

"I can't tell you, it's a secret," she replied.

He leaned closed to her, their arms brushing on the counter.

"I'm good at keeping secrets, you can tell me. What's behind that door and why do you keep it locked?"

"Only those who know the password are allowed to see," she said. "Do you know the magic words, Dean?"

"Please,"

She snorted. "Nice try, but points for manners," she said. He sent her a mock-glare. "So, what exactly do you do? You said you followed after your father."

"The family business," he shrugged.

"And that is?"

A smirk pulled at his mouth. "It's a secret, only those who know the password get to know. What're the magic words, Hermione?" He echoed what she'd just said to him.

"Please," she responded.

"Nice try, but points for manners."

She scowled at him and he laughed until she threatened to take away the pie and he soon apologised.

"So, have you found what you're looking for yet?"

"No," he sighed, picking up his fork and rather than cutting another slice from the reaming pie, he just it ate it the way it was.

"Do you want some help?"

"Aren't you busy?" He asked.

She deliberately trailed her eyes around the room and he saw her point, with the exception of the teen that was hidden away in the secret room, there was no one else there. In fact, it'd been quiet all morning.

"Not really, I can do with having something to do. Research's my forte."

Much like Sam's was, he found himself thinking, before shaking his head. He hadn't seen his little brother since he'd gone off to Stanford University.

"So, what am I looking for?"

He thought it over, realising there was no harm in her helping him. It was _her_ store after all and while she might not have known what was in every book in the store, she probably would know where to look.

"Something with super strength and speed, and that may be able to take on the form of a human," he answered.

She blinked. "Well, thanks for narrowing that down for me," she said sarcastically and he snorted at her. "Come on then, let's see what we can find."

She stood from the stool, rounded the counter and made her way through the maze of bookcases. He picked up the plate with the remaining pie, a fork and his soda and followed after her. By the time he reached her, she'd already pulled a dozen or so books and piled them on the table, and she sat on the armchair with her feet tucked beneath her and her head buried in a book as she flicked through the pages.

~000~000~000~

An hour and a half later found Dean bored out of mind and stealing glances at Hermione and her current position of lounging. It seemed she'd given up on sitting and was now laid in the armchair with her head propped up by an armrest, a book resting against her knees and her legs hung over the other armrest, her feet moving from side to side and making little circles. He was sure she didn't even know she was doing it, or that she was twirling a curl around her finger or chewing at the corner of her bottom lip. Dean would be lying if he said it wasn't a sight he could get used to.

Half an hour after that, the teen from earlier had made an appearance from the back room, shouted his goodbyes to Hermione and then left, making it so it was only them in the store once more.

"I think I've got something," Hermione spoke and if he hadn't already been watching her, he would've turned to look at her. "Here," she said, holding the book out for him and making sure to keep the book open on the correct page.

He reached across the coffee table and took the book from her, his eyes briefly scanning the words in front of him, and what he saw did give him some hope.

"A crocotta, I've never heard of it," Dean spoke.

"They're better known in Indian and Ethiopian mythology, give me a minute," she said, standing from the armchair and disappearing from view, only to return with three large books in her arms. "This is a book on African mythology, this one Asian mythology and if I'm right, this one should go into a little more depth about crocottas," she said as she put the books down on the table.

"Hermione, you here?" A male voice called out.

Hermione signalled to Dean to give her a minute, before leaving him and he leaned over in his seat, to see Hermione meeting yet another teenager in one of the aisles, though this one looked younger than the others had. Looking at his watch, he saw it to be not long after the end of school.

"Hey, Chris, what do you need?" He heard Hermione say and Dean stood from the couch and moved closer so he could better hear the conversation.

The teenager shuffled on his feet and gave her a sheepish smile before reaching up to push his dark hair back from his green eyes.

"Languages," he replied, but the way Hermione's mouth twitched had Dean believing it was more than that, he was missing something, he was sure of it.

"Chris, you're brilliant at _languages_ ," Hermione replied with a friendly smile. "You don't need my help."

"But you're an expert and I have an assignment due tomorrow, I can't fail, I can't give Watson any reason to fail me, he hates me," the teenager said.

"Chris, you're too hard on yourself. You don't need my help."

"Hermione, please," the teen practically begged.

Hermione sighed and reached up to push her hair back from her face. "Fine, but no more than half an hour."

"Thank you," the teen said, looking relieved.

Hermione led them over to the secret room, unlocked the door and let the teen inside before she locked it behind him. When Dean saw her approaching him, he quickly sat down on the couch and grabbed one of the books, opening it up to a random page so it wouldn't look as though he'd been spying on her.

"I'm sorry but I need to help someone with their homework, will you be fine on your own for a little bit."

Dean nodded. "You want me to get you if someone comes in?"

"Don't worry about it, I'll know," she said, before turning and leaving him alone.

~000~000~000

An hour and a half later found Dean convinced that Hermione had definitely found the creature responsible for the deaths in town. So far there'd been five in a period of a month, two of them suicides and three of them heart attacks, only the victims had no history of illness or mental health. As far as he could piece together, they were all perfectly healthy, happy people.

Reading through the information on crocottas, everything seemed to fit perfectly; the strength and speed and the evolved ability to shape-shift. He'd even discovered they had the ability to perfectly mimic voices and it was recently believed they'd developed the ability to manipulate technology. They used their abilities to convince people to kill themselves or to lead them to their deaths, so they could eat their souls. Despite never having heard of such a creature before, he was confident it was the one he was after, and luckily, they were rather easy to kill. All that was needed was something with a sharp, pointed edge that he could stab straight through the back of the neck. So he knew what he was dealing with, he knew how to kill it, but he still didn't know who it was or where to find it, which meant he'd have to do a little detective work.

Hearing footsteps, he looked up to see Hermione approaching him and she flopped down onto the armchair, looking exhausted and frazzled.

"The kid?" Dean asked amused.

She nodded and pushed her hair back from her face. "I don't mind helping him, but he sure knows how to test my patience. Half an hour turned into an hour, which then turned into an hour and a half, and now, my brain's fried. Thank God he's finally gone," she sighed. He snorted at her.

"So, you're a languages expert?" She raised an eyebrow. "Your conversation carried over, I heard bits and pieces," he lied, not wanting her to know he'd been spying on her.

"You can say that," she responded.

"But you said you were a mythical creatures expert," he pointed out.

"I'm versatile," she said. "So, is it what you were looking for?" She asked, gesturing to the book in his hands.

"I think so," he nodded.

"And now that you've found it, why are you looking for it?"

"I can't tell you, it's a secret."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Well, thankfully it's now time to close," she said.

"I'll help you," he said.

She raised an eyebrow but didn't comment as he stood and picked up several books from the coffee table and returned them to their correct places. As he did that, she locked up the back room and turned off all the lights, before grabbing her things and Dean met her by the door. They both stepped out and Hermione locked the door before turning, pulling a large Tupperware tub from a bag and handing it to him.

"One blueberry pie, as promised."

He grinned at her and accepted the pie and he opened his mouth to respond, when he heard a woman calling out from across the street.

"Hermione!"

They both turned to watch the middle-aged woman rushing across the road, her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and bobbing as she walked, her brown eyes filled with unshed tears and she clutched tissues in her hand.

"What's wrong, Laurie?" Hermione asked softly.

The woman sniffled and barely spared him a glance before throwing herself at Hermione, hugging her tightly and crying into her shoulder. Hermione blinked in surprise but hugged the woman back and Dean shifted on his feet; crying women made him nervous.

It took a few moments for Hermione to coax the woman into speaking, but the woman soon stepped back from her.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," she apologised, dabbing at her eyes with the tissues.

Hermione gave a kind smile. "It's alright, what's wrong?"

"I suppose you won't have heard. The police found Peter's body a couple of hours ago, they're saying it's a suicide."

Dean froze and turned his eyes to Hermione, seeing sadness cross her features but she didn't cry.

"I'm sorry, Laurie," she spoke softly, reaching out for the woman's hand.

"Where was the body found?" Dean heard himself ask.

Hermione sent him a look that was a cross between a glare and curiosity.

The woman sniffled. "In the park by the woods," she answered.

"Why don't you head home and get some rest? I'll stay with Eric and help him until closing,"

"You're a dear," she replied.

Hermione gave her hand a squeeze and a comforting smile and the woman hugged her once more before leaving them. As soon as she did Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Why do you want to know where the body was found?"

"Just curious," he replied. He knew she didn't believe him, but she dropped the subject, sighing.

"Well, now I know why Peter didn't come by for his pie."

"Did you know him well?" He asked, seeing that although she was saddened by the news of his death, she didn't look distraught by it.

"Not really," she answered. "I mean, I couldn't tell you where he lived or if he had a partner or what pets he had, but I knew he was a good cook and that he loved his desserts. That's about it."

"And the woman? What's she to him?" He asked after witnessing her reaction.

"A friend mostly, I think she knew his mother and she watched him grow up. She gave him his first job and when he went off to culinary school and he graduated, he decided to return to the cafe and work in the kitchens," she shrugged, reaching up to push her hair back from her face when the wind disturbed it. "Well, I better get going, it gets busy around this time and Eric's going to need all the help he can get," she gestured to the cafe across the street.

"You won't be at the bar tonight?" He asked and he was unable to keep the disappointment from his voice.

Her mouth twitched. "Not tonight, I suspect I'll be too exhausted once we've locked up. So, now that you have everything you need, including your pie, I guess this is goodbye. Good luck with...your secret job, and if you're ever in town and in need of anything, you know where to find me. It's was nice meeting you, Dean."

She gave him a big smile and turned to leave, but he reached out, his hand wrapping around her wrist to stop her. She turned back to look at him, her eyes darting down to his hand on her wrist and then moving back up to his face.

"Thank you," he said. "I wouldn't have found what I needed without you. And while we may not be friends, you're the closest one I've had in a long time," he said honestly.

She smiled at him. "Don't be silly, of course, we're friends," she grinned. "I don't just give pie to every random stranger, you know?"

Feeling genuinely surprised by her words, he blinked slowly before a smile of his own crossed his face. The one he didn't show often. It wasn't the smug smile, it wasn't the charming smile or even the half-smirk smile; this was the one he got from his mother. The soft, caring smile. And he realised, that although he'd known her no more than two days and he barely knew anything about her, he was actually going to miss her.

"Thank you," he said once more, before bending down to press a kiss to her cheek.

When he pulled back, she smiled at him and then turned and left, sending a little wave over her shoulder.

~000~000~000~

Three days later found Dean still not having moved on, despite knowing what he was dealing with he still hadn't discovered the location of the crocotta. He'd spent all his time focusing on the case that he hadn't even had time to -or even attempt to- go to the bar, even though he was curious as to if Hermione would've been there and even though he wanted to see her again.

He thought it odd how big of an impression the little book store owner had made on him, so much so that he _did_ want to see her again. Not to charm her out of her panties despite how beautiful she was, not to flirt with her or to ask her for help, but just so he could have a conversation that didn't revolve around hunting or the supernatural. He found it easy to lose track of time when he was talking with her and it wasn't often someone was able to engage his attention the way she did, or make him laugh the way she did.

They say first impressions are important, well Hermione had certainly made a big one on him and all without trying to as well. He knew that no matter what happened, he'd always remember the little book store and it's pretty, pie baking owner.

Snapping himself out of his thoughts, he dodged the blow that had been aimed at his stomach before elbowing his opponent in the face and swiftly bringing down the knife, ploughing it straight through the back of the man's neck. He fell to the ground, dead.

One crocotta down, four more to go.

It had taken half a day to finally find the crocotta and it had been quite easy to kill it, so much so it had almost bored him. Once he'd taken care of the body, he returned to his motel and packed up his things ready to leave town but before doing so he stopped for dinner.

He'd been on his way back to the Impala when he'd been ambushed and dragged into the back alley by five men. Immediately spotting their unhinged jaws and sharp, _sharp_ teeth, he understood them to be crocottas. And it made sense that they were, too. He'd read they were lucky if they devoured two souls a year, and there'd been six bodies found, that was too many for just one crocotta. He should've known there would've been another, but there was little he could do about that now except for surviving.

Given he was outnumbered, he took a few blows to his abdomen and face, but he wasn't going down without a fight. Kicking one of the crocottas in the knees, he fell straight to the ground and Dean stabbed his knife through the man's neck.

Two down, three to go.

He pulled the knife back and swung for the one closest to him, not only missing, but feeling a terrible, crippling pain shooting through his stomach.

The knife fell from his hand and he stumbled back, looking down at himself and seeing the alarming pool of blood that was soaking through his shirt and the large broken shard of glass that was sticking out of him. He brought his hands up to try and stem the bleeding and he fell to his knees, tilting to lean against the brick wall to keep him upright.

In his weakened and vulnerable state the three crocottas surrounded him, their mouths opened wide and their intent was clear. To feast on his soul. He knew the hunting life would probably be the death of him, he just thought the situation would've been a lot cooler. Like dying saving the lives of a bunch of school kids, or blowing up a building with himself still inside to save a group of bikini models. But no, he was going to die in a dirty, cold back alley and have his soul feasted upon.

"Hey!"

Dean didn't see who it was but he'd recognise that voice anywhere. How did she find him? What was she doing? She was going to get herself killed!

He opened his mouth to shout, to tell her to get to safety and just leave, when something happened that he wasn't expecting.

The three men snarled at her and turned away from him, heading straight for her. She didn't scream in terror at their appearance, she didn't cry in fear, she just stood there, unblinking and rooted to the spot with narrowed eyes and a strong stance.

Her hand came up to her sleeve and before he could blink, beams of light were darting and ricocheting in every direction, slamming into walls and colliding with the skips, lighting up the alleyway and making it hard for him to see what was happening.

He felt his eyelids growing heavy and his head becoming fuzzy, and just before his eyes closed, Hermione was kneeled down in front of him, a worried look on her face and her hands came up to his face. She was panting, he noted, but uninjured.

Just who was she? What'd just happened? How did she do that?

"You're going be fine," he heard her say softly before the darkness took over.

~000~000~000~

Dean became aware of the soft mattress beneath him and it certainly wasn't the one from his motel room. He was aware of the clean smell in the room, of the slight draught which he guessed was due to a window being open. He was aware of the thick, warm blanket that covered him and was soft against his exposed skin, and of the clean linen smell that accompanied it.

Allowing his eyes to slowly open, he blinked until his vision cleared and he was staring up at a ceiling, it being painted dark with glowing stars. His eyes fell down to the walls, seeing them being a calming shade of blue and one wall had been wallpapered with a pattern that looked have pirates on. That alone had him believing he was in a children's bedroom.

He tried to push himself up but immediately stopped at the pain that shot through him and instead he turned his head to the left, seeing the toy chest on the wall and the chest of drawers that sat next to it. Turning to look to the right, it was to see a bedside table with a lamp sitting on top and it was switched on, that being the minimal light source in the room and he could see from the window that it was dark outside.

Only just noticing the heavyweight on his legs, Dean lifted his head and his eyes widened when he saw the giant, ginger fluff-ball staring back at him with bright yellow eyes and a bushy tail swishing back and forth lazily. He'd never seen a cat so ugly, its face looking as though it'd been hit with a shovel and its fur looking soft, but like it'd been electrocuted at the same time. And if he didn't know any better, he would've said the damn cat was watching him cautiously, as if waiting for an attack.

"Oh, you're awake," a soft voice spoke and he turned towards the door he hadn't notice, seeing none other than Hermione stood in the doorway and with a glass of water held in her hand. She stepped into the room and tutted at the ginger fur-ball. "Crookshanks, I told you not to bother our guest."

The cat actually meowed back in response and Dean blinked slowly, she just shook her head. She dragged a chair over from the corner of the room and positioned it by the side of the bed, taking a seat and reaching over to put down the glass on the bedside table.

"How are you feeling?"

"Groggy," he answered.

She nodded. "I gave you something to keep you under while I healed you. It's now eight o'clock on Saturday evening, you've been out a little under twenty-four hours," she explained.

His eyes widened in surprise. No wonder he felt so well-rested. "You patched me up?"

"Sure did, it wasn't easy but luckily none of your organs were nicked by the glass shard. It took a while to stop the bleeding but once that was taken care of I was able to seal the wound."

He had so many questions and he didn't know where to start.

"How did you find me?"

"Coincidence," she shrugged. "I was heading into the diner to pick up my order when I became aware of what was happening in the alleyway. I thought it was just kids picking on each other. I wasn't expecting to see you or those _things_."

He blinked and his head went dizzy as memories from the previous night came flooding back to him.

"You didn't even flinch," he muttered. "I saw those things you did. It's not possible. Who are you really?" He asked.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair and for the first time he noticed that although she was wearing different clothes than the night before, she looked exhausted, as though she hadn't slept. Had she watched over him all night?

"I know you're a Hunter," she said. His surprise must've been evident as she chuckled at him. "I've met some of you before. I just didn't piece everything together until I saw you last night. I should've known," she shook her head. "Why else would you have spent so much time researching the supernatural and asking questions regarding where the bodies had been found? I now know what the _family business_ is, but I don't know who you are."

He eyed her cautiously, deciding whether or not to tell her the truth. Something inside him was telling him that he could trust her; after all, she knew he was a Hunter and she'd patched him up. If he told her who he was then maybe she'd feel more comfortable in telling him the truth about herself.

"Dean Winchester."

He hadn't expected her reaction. Her eyes widened, her face paled and she leaned back into her chair.

"Fuck," she breathed out in a whisper.

So she's obviously heard of him, but why was she afraid? What was she?

She took a deep breath. "Okay, this is going to be a difficult conversation," she said. "Let's get you up and more comfortable," she said.

She stood from her chair and helped him into a sitting position, apologising when he winced in pain and she propped him up with the pillows. The cat hadn't moved from lying across his legs, but he did receive a less than pleased look for disturbing it. Dean thought the cat was very odd.

"Drink this; it'll make you feel better."

"What is it?" He asked, eyeing the glass she held out to him.

"Water, but I've put a pain reliever in it. It's similar to Morphine only this particular one isn't as strong," she explained.

Deciding to trust her, he took the glass and sipped at the water and a few moments later he could already feel the pain beginning to fade and with that he drank down the rest of it.

"So, before I say anything, I want you to talk to someone first."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone, before handing it over to him.

"Speed dial one," she instructed.

His curiosity got the better of him and he took the phone from her, pressed the correct number on the keypad and held the speaker to his ear. It rang a total of three times before someone answered.

"Hey, Missy, what's up?"

Dean froze. He'd know that gruff voice anywhere. He'd known it since his childhood, it belonged to the man that was like a second father to him. The only difference being, he'd never heard it sound so soft or happy, as if he'd genuinely been happy to speak to the owner of the number that was calling him.

How the hell did she know Bobby?

"Missy, are you okay?"

Dean cleared his throat. "Bobby?" He said hesitantly.

The line went quiet for a few moments before a curse of "balls," was heard and it was followed by a sigh. Dean could imagine Bobby taking off his ball cap and rubbing at his forehead with his sleeve, before putting the cap back on.

"What are you doing calling off Missy's number? Is she alright?"

"If you mean Hermione, she's fine," he answered, his eyes refusing to leave the woman that sat beside him.

He didn't imagine Bobby sighing. "I should've known you'd run into each other at some point. You working a case in her town?"

"Yeah, she helped me with research."

"You're not the first," Bobby replied.

"Meaning?" Dean questioned.

"How'd you think I run Hunter's Central? I can't do it all by myself. Missy's my secondary source of information. If I don't know it, she does."

Dean blinked at that. "She saved my life," he admitted.

"You're not the first," Bobby repeated, his tone softening a little. "She's a miracle worker. Look, don't hurt her. The only reason she's put you on the line is so I can vouch for her, so she must be planning to tell you the truth. Whatever she says to you, you can trust her. Forget everything your father's told you. She's not evil; she's special, _really_ special. I trust her with my life, and if that's not good enough for you then you're an idiot. And if you hurt her, I'll kill you myself."

Dean felt a headache coming on. "Noted," he muttered.

"Good, now put Missy on," Bobby instructed.

Dean handed the device over to her and she put it against her ear, a wide smile pulling at her face.

"Hi Bubba," she smiled and Dean's eyebrows shot up high on his forehead when he heard Bobby chuckle through the speaker. "I'm fine, Dean's the one that nearly died, but I've taken care of it. He should be fine by tomorrow...I will, don't you worry...You're taking care of yourself, right?... Of course, I'm going to worry about you, you're not getting any younger...It's been a while since my last visit, I'll have to come and see you soon...Yes, I'll bring shepherd's pie, as if you'd let me forget...I'll send you some down tomorrow...Alright, I'll talk to you later and if you need anything you know where I am...Bye, Bubba."

Dean's head officially couldn't take anymore, he was sure of it. He mulled over the things Bobby had said and his obvious protectiveness over Hermione, so did that mean she was supernatural? But if that was the case, why was Bobby protecting her? He hated the supernatural just as much as the next Hunter.

"So?" Dean said.

"Look, my past...It's quite traumatic and I don't like talking about it, but aside from that, I don't want you to think I'm lying to you so..." She stood from the chair, left the room and returned moments later with one of the biggest books he'd ever seen, being carried in her arms. "Inside this book is everything you need to know about who I am, at least up until I turned eighteen."

"You're in a book?" He asked slowly.

"Several," she nodded. "You see, I'm a War Heroine and at the age of eighteen, I helped to save my world and my people from the darkest, most powerful magical dictator that had ever been seen. And now, the Wizarding World is better for it."

"Magical? Wizarding World?" He repeated.

She nodded. "I'm a _magical_ witch."

He thought he ought to be leaping out of the comfortable bed and strangling her with his bare hands, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He thought he should've been angry and disgusted, but he couldn't bring himself to feel that. He wasn't sure if it was a combination of Bobby's words, her saving his life and the grogginess he was still feeling, or something else. Instead, he sat in silence, watching her cautiously and she breathed a sigh of relief before continuing.

"There's two types of witches, magical and supernatural. As I'm sure you're aware, supernatural witches either make deals with demons or carry out human sacrifice and rituals to get their powers. But I'm a _magical_ witch; I was born the way I am. I was born with my magic inside of me and there's nothing I can do about it. Strange things used to happen around me when I was younger and when I turned eleven, I was visited by the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry and she explained about my magic and the hidden world I belonged to. Centuries ago true born wizarding folk and non-magicals lived together peacefully until the Witch Trials started. To protect and preserve our people, the existence and knowledge of magic was wiped from the world and we retreated into the shadows and built our own world and community."

"You're a witch?"

She nodded. "Yes, but I'm a _good_ witch. I don't harm those that are unable to defend themselves against me. I don't use any harmful or ill-intentioned magic on non-magicals as it's illegal. It's a serious crime and could result in prison time should it be done unlawfully. It's also illegal to expose the secret of trueborn magic to non-magicals such as yourself, so if anyone finds out I've broken our most sacred law, I'll be put on trial and likely imprisoned. I understand this is a lot to take it; I've been on the other end of this conversation before, too. And I appreciate you not killing me straight away. I've marked the sections that you should read, they're the most important and when you're done, either give me a shout or if you're feeling up to it, I'll be downstairs."

She handed over the large book, _Hogwarts, a History_ , it read, before standing from the chair and turning to look at her cat.

"Are you coming or staying here, Crooks?" She asked. The cat just stared at her before burying its head beneath one of its paws. "I think you've made a new friend."

"Why do you seem surprised by that?" He found himself asking.

"Crookshanks is part kneazle, a magical breed of cat. As a result, he's fiercely protective of me and he'll warn me against those that wish me harm. He's an excellent judge of character and there's very few people he trusts, I can only think of two off the top of my head. The fact that not only is he sitting with you, watching over you, but that he seems to _like_ you, too, is strange to me."

Dean eyed the cat curiously and he would swear the damn thing just winked at him!

"Anyway, I'll leave you to it."

~000~000~000~

An hour later found Dean's head pounding, his stomach twisting and turning with disgust and his respect for the little witch downstairs skyrocketing. He hadn't actually been able to read everything, not because of the gruesome, horrendous things she'd had to do to survive, but because of the age she'd been when they had occurred. He couldn't believe she'd almost died when she was a young fifteen-year-old girl, he couldn't believe she fought in an actual war at her young age and squared off against opponents that were double, even triple her age and had more experience and knowledge, and yet she'd still won.

It seemed he'd been right not to harm her when she'd told him she was a witch. He understood why Bobby was so protective of her. She was a good, kind person, genuinely, she just happened to be born with magic. And although it went against everything he was taught and everything he stood for, he _knew_ he couldn't harm her. She was just _too_ good and she'd suffered too much to protect not only her people but the rest of the world, too. He remembered hearing about all the terrorist attacks in Europe six years ago, and now he knew the cause.

Bobby was right; she _was_ special. She was nothing like the wicked bitches he was used to dealing with, and neither was her magic. After being done reading through the sections based on her, her friends and the war, he'd skimmed through some of the other chapters and seen for himself. They didn't have rituals, they didn't have human sacrifice, and they didn't chant or make hex bags. They were different. And while he knew it would take a little while for everything to actually sink in, he knew he'd already accepted her for who she was and it was easy to do. If she hadn't been so kind to him and everyone around her, it probably would've been a little more difficult, but she truly was good, whether she was a witch or not.

Putting the large book off to the side, he decided to try and stretch his legs and go in search of her, knowing they needed to have a talk.

"You mind moving?" He asked the cat that hadn't left his side.

He received a look of annoyance in return but the cat did move, standing up and arching its back as it stretched, before it jumped down off the bed, it making a thudding sound against the floorboards. He expected the cat to run off and leave him, but instead, it sat itself on the ground and looked at him pointedly.

The cat was strange, he was sure of it. Every time Dean had looked over the top of the book, it was to see the ginger fur-ball watching him closely for his reactions to each new bit of information he learned. He wondered if it being a magical breed had anything to do with its strangeness because he would swear, the damn cat had human mannerisms.

Removing the blanket from himself, he was able to stand from the bed and he looked down at himself, only just noticing that he was wearing a black t-shirt and a grey pair of drawstring pyjamas bottoms, and he certainly hadn't been wearing them before. Shaking his head, he followed after the cat as he led the way down the hall, past two closed doors and down the stairs, it bringing him into an opened planned living room and kitchen.

Looking around, the colours were warm and inviting and the furniture looking worn and comfortable. Photos lined the walls and a huge fireplace dominated the back wall, a large TV was mounted above it and the couch, armchair and coffee table surrounding it. The kitchen was filled with the regular appliances you'd expect and it was fitted with two built-in ovens, and a large kitchen island in the centre. It was homey, he realised. Certainly somewhere you'd feel comfortable and safe.

He spotted Hermione walking out of a room by the kitchen and she stopped at the sight of him, their gazes instantly locking.

"You read the book?" She asked. He nodded. "Are you going to kill..."

"No," he said before she'd even managed to finish her sentence. "I've seen the monsters that hide in this world and I've seen what people are capable of. Whether you have magic or not, you're a good person and there needs to be more people like you in the world to balance out the evil. And you've certainly made your fair share of sacrifices for the safety of others," he answered.

She blinked in surprise and looked down to the ground. He squinted his eyes, Hell, she was blushing!

"Thank you," she said quietly. "Are you hungry? I made food."

Never one to turn down food, he nodded and approached the kitchen, taking a seat at the kitchen island and watching as she removed two plates from the oven, it keeping the dishes warm. She placed it in front of him along with a knife and fork and she grabbed two beers from the fridge, removed their caps and placed them on the surface before taking a seat opposite him.

They ate the pasta dish in silence and despite the situation, it didn't feel awkward. When they finished Hermione took their plates and cutlery and put them in the sink to be washed later, before retaking her seat opposite him. He looked down at himself and then raised an eyebrow.

"Your clothes were ruined so I had to bin them, even my magic wouldn't have been able to repair the damage as there was too much blood. I used magic to change you, so don't worry, I didn't perve on you."

He snorted at her and picked up his beer, taking a swig from the bottle. "Who's are they?" He asked curiously.

"Harry's I think, he's my brother, well kind of, non-biologically at least. Given what we've been through together, we've a bond some might not understand and that's difficult to explain, but at the very least he's my family."

"You talking about Harry Potter, from the book?"

"The one and only," she nodded.

"I have questions,"

"I thought you might, take it away."

"Will you show me what you're capable of?"

She blinked in surprise, likely having expected him to be more intrusive.

"Sure," she said, a smile appearing on her face before she pulled a wooden stick from her sleeve. Her wand, he realised. "Let's see," she said to herself.

She pulled out a list of takeout menus from one of the drawers and pointed her wand at them as she muttered something under her breath. He startled in surprise when there was suddenly half a dozen rabbits hopping about on the kitchen island.

"Transfiguration," she smiled.

He reached out and ran his hands through the fur of the rabbit closest to him, feeling that it was real. It was an actual rabbit! With a wave of her wand, they were turned back to their true form, and she muttered something else under her breath, a flock of bright yellow canaries shooting from the tip of her wand and flying above their heads. She soon made them disappear before she conjured a glass out of thin air and filled it with water that streamed out of her wand. And then before his eyes, there was a 'crack' and Hermione was suddenly gone, only to reappear on the other side of the room. He stared in surprise.

"That's what we call apparition, it's basically teleportation. It's our version of driving. You have to have a license to do it and you have to legally be an adult, which is seventeen in my world."

"And you can go anywhere? Just like that," he clicked his fingers.

"Essentially, but we have to have either been to our intended destination before or be able to clearly visualise it, otherwise we risk splinching ourselves, which is basically cutting parts of our body off during travel. If you wish to travel long distance, you have to make several pit-stops to recharge the battery, so to speak. But we do have other forms of transportation that are more suited to long-distance journeys," she explained.

"As for magic, we can do most things that are thought impossible. We have the best healing and medicine on earth. We can heal broken bones in minutes; we can even re-grow them entirely. We have a cure for the common cold and instant pain relievers. We've even been able to cure paralysis in a few instances, too."

"Is that how you patched me up?" He asked.

"Yes, I'm actually a licensed medi-witch."

"A what?"

"Medi-witch, it's basically a magical nurse or paramedic. Healers are magical doctors. Speaking of, I should probably check on your wound, make sure it's healing properly," she said. She hopped off her stool and rounded the kitchen island to stand in front of him. "Up you get and lift your shirt for me," she instructed.

His mouth twitched in amusement as he followed her instructions, standing up and lifting his shirt. She bent slightly and the tip of her wand pressed gently against his stomach and she muttered beneath her breath, a slight glow appearing before she stepped back.

"What's that?"

"The results of the diagnostics charm I've just cast," she answered, not taking her eyes off his stomach. "From the looks of things, everything's healing as it's supposed to be and you should be completely fine by tomorrow, and any scarring will fade within less than a week. I gave you a magical blood transfusion so you shouldn't feel too light-headed either. Your bruises have already healed, as has the cut on your cheek. I gave you enough Pain Relief Potion to take the edge off and hopefully, the pain will be gone entirely by tomorrow."

"Hold up, potions?"

"Potions," she nodded. "I tend to brew my own but the majority of people buy theirs either from potions shops or from Potions Masters. By brewing my own I know exactly what goes into each potion, I know how long they've been stored and I know they're likely to be more effective as I haven't used cheap or damaged ingredients. So yes, magic and potions. We even fly on brooms, too."

He knew about the brooms after reading about them in the book she'd given him, and he barely stopped himself from cracking a joke about stereotypical witches, not wanting to possibly anger her.

"Well most people do, I hate flying. I much prefer my feet on the ground."

"That makes two of us," he agreed. He hated flying with a passion.

She stepped back from him, picked up her beer and moved over to the sitting area. Taking a quick moment he looked down at himself, seeing that there was barely any evidence of his injury and he knew from the amount of blood that it had been bad. All he saw was a single white vertical line off to the right of his belly button, and even then it looked older than it actually was. He admitted, magical healing would be handy in his line of work.

Picking up his own beer, he crossed over to the couch taking a seat opposite her as she settled herself on the armchair, flicking her wand at the fireplace and flames burst to life.

"What can't you do?" He asked.

"We can't defy nature," she answered, "Meaning we're unable to resurrect someone. Magic is also not allowed to be used outside of school unless you are over the age of seventeen. There's a trace on every wizarding child and should you break the rules, you are put up against the Wizarding Government to face judgement. If they decide it was unjust, you are expelled from school and your wand is snapped, and you're to never practice magic again."

"Seems a bit harsh," he frowned.

"It is, but I understand why they do it. We channel our magic through our wands and they help us to control it, to better harness it, but our magic is tied into our emotions and this is the cause of accidental magic. Children don't receive their wands until the age of eleven and until then, they have nothing to control the flow of magic in their bodies. When I was mad as a child, I'd accidentally set the curtains on fire or a glass vase would shatter. If I was upset, items would levitate. If I hated a dress my mother wanted me to wear, it would suddenly find itself in the bin. If I fell out of a tree, my magic protected me by slowing down my fall. But even as a teenager, emotions run high and it can affect our magic and our decisions. The laws are in place to protect the secret of magic and to keep everyone safe."

"Why haven't you always known about your magic?" He asked curiously.

"I'm a Muggleborn, it's a class of witches and wizards. I may have been born with my magic but both of my parents were non-magical. I was an anomaly. I was born in the non-magical world. Then there's Half-bloods, and while they do have magical ancestry, they also have some non-magical ancestry, too. They either have two magical parents that aren't both Purebloods, or one magical and one non-magical parent. Where they are born depends on whether or not the non-magical parent knows about magic, but the majority of Half-bloods tend to be born in the Wizarding World so they grow up around magic. Purebloods only have magical ancestry and it can be traced right back to the Founders of Hogwarts, a millennia ago. Most pride themselves on this and this is why the wars happened."

"The opposing side hated me and others like me; they hated Half-bloods and non-magicals, too. They blamed us for the decline in Pureblood births and the rise of Squibs, which is a magical child that is born without magic; essentially they're just a non-magical. In order to keep their bloodline _pure_ , they inbred." He pulled a face of disgust. "And as we all know, that's not good for the health of any child. But thankfully it's all over now and blood supremacy is at an all-time low. There's still a few sympathisers out there, and I know there's a few wanted fugitives that escaped during the Final Battle, but otherwise, my world is peaceful again."

"You were so young, only eighteen," he commented.

"If you want to get technical, this all started for me at the age of twelve, that's when I faced my first dark wizard. It wasn't until I was fifteen that the return of the war was made official and it took three years to kill the psychotic bastard afterwards. War doesn't care about how old or young you are, whether you're innocent or evil, an adult or a child; it claims its victims without prejudice. I was lucky, I survived, but we lost many. People I knew, people I grew up with, people that taught me, people that I loved. And despite how hard it was, we all had to put the past behind us and move on, we owed it to those that sacrificed themselves to live our lives the best we could. To change the world for the better and to raise a new generation of wizarding folk and teach them how to be better than us, to not make the same mistakes but to learn from them."

"So, what was your job before you moved here?" He changed the subject, seeing that her mood was getting darker as each second ticked by. "I'm assuming you couldn't tell me because it had something to do with magic."

She nodded. "I didn't return to school after the war, I couldn't bring myself to walk the halls when I knew what had happened there, so I went straight into employment. Harry, Ron and I, we completed our Auror training... Magical policemen," she said before he could ask and he nodded. "I did that for about a year, but I hated it, so I switched divisions and went into the Regulation and Control for Magic Creatures Department, and I pretty much did the same thing, only it was with magical creatures, beings and spirits, instead of humans and dark witches and wizards."

"Like ghosts and werewolves, that kind of thing?"

"Exactly," she nodded.

"You were a Hunter?" He asked surprised.

"Not quite, but yes at the same time. Killing was never the objective; it was always the last option. Given how dangerous my job was, I had a partner and obviously, we grew close. Jake Preston," she said. "He was two years older than me and we were together for just under five years. He was a pain in the arse and we were complete opposites personality-wise, but that's why we worked well together. I covered his weaknesses and he covered mine. We spent more time with each other than we did our friends and family. We fought side by side, watching out for each other and facing danger together and that creates a bond."

"What happened?" He asked softly, sensing that she was holding something back.

She sighed and took a swig from her beer, her eyes falling down to the ground. "We were working a case and somehow Jake's cousin became involved and was kidnapped. I was doing a quick sweep of the perimeter to make sure it was safe and he deviated from the plan and went in alone. By the time I got there, both he and his cousin were dead, as were the other twelve victims that had gone missing. He needed me and I failed him. I got my partner killed."

"No, you didn't," he said softly. " _He_ allowed his emotions to cloud his judgement and _he_ was the one that went in without back up. If he had waited for you to finish your perimeter search and you'd have gone in together, I've no doubt you'd have all gotten out safely. It wasn't your fault and you didn't fail him. You can't blame yourself."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I know, but I do."

"Is this why you moved? These are the demons you talked about having?"

She nodded. "Yep. After his death, I couldn't stand the thought of having a new partner, not after we'd been together so long. And I couldn't take the looks people gave me, or the articles newspapers wrote about me, or the way his parents looked at me. I just needed to get away, and so I moved here and opened my book shop. This is the reason I'm an expert on mythical and magical creatures, I wasn't lying about that."

Dean cleared his throat. "So, that locked room in your store? What is it?"

"It contains all of my magical textbooks and only wizarding folk are allowed access. It's warded against non-magicals."

"Those teenagers?" He said, his eyes widening slightly at the implication of her words.

"Yep, they were wizards. The older ones attend a magical university and the younger ones are still in school. While the curriculums in Europe and the US differ slightly, the big difference is boarding. All magical schools in Europe are boarding schools, here I believe there is only one school that offers boarding, the rest attend between nine and three o'clock, and return home each day. This is why I have kids coming into my shop wanting to use my books or wanting my help with their homework. I'm one of the very few magical book shops in the State."

He blinked at that, before shaking his head. "So, how'd you meet Bobby?" He asked, changing the subject.

A relieved look crossed her face and she sat up in her seat, a smile finally pulling at her mouth.

"We met not long after I got here, actually. I was still looking for a property to buy and was staying in the same motel as Bobby. He was working a case nearby."

"Bobby doesn't go on hunts anymore," he frowned.

"He does every now and then, he gets bored being cooped up in the house all day and he needs a break from time to time. Anyway, he ran into a spot of trouble with a werewolf and luckily I was nearby and I stepped in and helped him. Of course, he threw a massive hissy fit and nearly killed me. He held me at gunpoint for three hours until he calmed down enough to actually listen to what I had to say, and we've been friends since. I try to visit him every couple of months and when he needs any information, he gives me a call; actually, he calls me at least three times a week just to check in with me. Sometimes when I pick up chatter about some strange deaths having occurred, I'll let him know and he passes it on to another Hunter to check out. I've known him for three years but it feels much longer. He's like a father to me."

"Know the feeling," Dean responded.

"Ah, I've heard about your dad, Bobby said he's an arsehole."

"What?" Dean spluttered in surprise.

"Your dad's an arsehole,"

"He's not," Dean defended. "You don't even know him."

"Not personally, but Bobby certainly doesn't think the world of him, something to do with him being a shitty father and abandoning his kids. From I can tell, Bobby loves you as if you were his own and he's very protective of you, especially where your father's concerned."

Dean frowned before shaking his head. "And what about your parents? Where are they?"

"Dead," she said, not blinking. "They died during the war. To protect them I took their memories of my existence from them, gave them new identities and packed them off to Australia. They were found a month later and killed. They died never even knowing I existed."

"I'm sorry,"

She shrugged her shoulders. "It's not your fault and the ones that did it are dead. I found their bodies on the battlefield."

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Haven't you already?" She raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead," she gestured with her hand as she drank from her beer bottle.

"You never answered my question at the bar. Are you happy?"

She sighed, her eyes dropping down to her beer bottle. "No, I'm not. I don't exactly hate my life, but I don't love it either. When I was a kid I would've loved to have had my own book shop and now that I do..." She trailed off. "My life is peaceful, it's quiet and safe, but I'm bored... All the bloody time. I know my business is important to so many children and teenagers, and without it, half of them wouldn't even pass their classes. And while that does give me some satisfaction that I'm helping to better these kids' lives, I'm still bored. I don't want to admit it, but I guess I kind of miss my old life. I miss the chase and the research. I miss always having to be on the go and thinking on my feet. After doing so for eleven years, it's all I've ever known and it's hard to give it up."

"So why don't you go back to it?"

"I blame myself for Jake's death, whether it was my fault or not. I can't put someone else in that situation. I can't put _myself_ in that situation again. I need a partner I know I can trust, and Jake not only broke my trust, but he broke it for good."

Dean frowned, his eyes tracing her clearly exhausted frame.

"Alright, back to you. These crocotta things, they're still out there." He sat up straight at that news. "I managed to kill one of them, but the other two ran off. We need to find them before they hurt anyone else."

"We?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"We, I'm not having you getting injured again, I've just bloody healed you. And if I come with you, not only are you no longer outnumbered, but you've got my magic on your side, too. I was able to get a blood sample from one of the injured crocottas that got away. I can use that to track their exact location." He blinked at that; that would certainly be handy to have on his side. "Just don't tell anyone, the tracking measures I'm talking about are technically illegal." He stared at her and she shrugged her shoulders. "Right, I suppose we better get some rest. We'll head out in the morning."

"I never asked, where's my car?"

"Oh, it's parked out front."

"You drove my car?"

"No, I shrunk it down, put it in my pocket and then apparated here."

He blinked. "I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not,"

Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed her wand, pointing it at the coffee table before shrinking it down. Dean's eyes widened.

"Not," she responded. "Of course you can stay here, you know where the spare room is and if you need the bathroom, it's the door closest to the staircase. Goodnight, Dean."

~000~000~000~

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Hermione replied. "They're in there somewhere," she gestured out the window and towards the woods.

It was the next day and after having a hot shower in the cleanest bathroom he'd ever seen and eating a delicious breakfast which Hermione had prepared, they left her house, climbed into the Impala and Dean followed Hermione's directions.

"Split up and cover more ground?" She asked.

"No, we stay together," he replied, surprising himself with his words, but he meant it. He wanted Hermione close by in case anything happened.

After learning about her past and previous profession, as well as seeing what she was capable of, he knew she was more than enough capable of taking care of herself, but still, he wanted her close by so he could make sure she didn't get hurt.

"Alright then," she shrugged, stepping out of the car and he followed suit.

Together they walked through the woods, being as quiet as possible as to not alert anyone to their presence; they did have the element of surprise after all.

"Wait," Hermione muttered, and he came to a stop, watching curiously as she crouched down and fixed her eyes on the ground.

"The leaves have been disturbed here, and that branch is broken," she said, pointing to a branch on a tree a little ways in front of them. "The branch is too high for a land animal to have done it, someone's definitely passed through here recently."

"Lead the way, Witch," he gestured forward.

She rolled her eyes and stood up, moving forward but keeping her eyes on the ground to determine which way to go next. They walked for about half a mile before Hermione's hand shot out in front of Dean, stopping him from moving any further. He turned to look at her with a curiously raised eyebrow and she brought her hand up to her lips in a gesture for him to be silent and then much to his surprise, she walked over to a tree and started to climb it.

"What are you doing?" He asked quietly and she shushed him.

She stopped about halfway up and removed her wand from her pocket, and suddenly two beams of light left her wand before she climbed back down the tree as if it were nothing.

"Found them," she said, darting off and he was quick on her heels.

They soon came to a little clearing and Dean blinked in surprise when he saw the two crocottas lying face down on the ground, not moving.

"Just stunned," she said. "If you don't hurry they'll come around soon and we'll have a fight on our hands."

Shaking his head, he removed the knife from his sleeve and kneeled down on the ground, making quick work of taking them out for good. Standing up and stepping back, his mouth dropped open when Hermione pointed her wand and muttered under her breath, the two now dead bodies transfiguring into thousands of leaves and being blown across the ground in the wind.

"Now no one will stumble across the bodies," she shrugged, turning on her heel and making her way back to the car.

It took Dean a few moments to process what she'd just done, before catching up to her. They made the journey back to the car in silence, and once they reached the Impala, they climbed in and Dean flicked on the radio. Halfway to Hermione's house, he was the first to speak.

"We make a good team," he commented. She raised an eyebrow. "We do, you can't deny it. I would've never gotten this far if it weren't for your help with the research, and you saved my ass last night, too, as well as helped me to track the remaining two."

The car fell into silence until Hermione spoke a few minutes later. "I guess we do," she whispered.

By the time Dean pulled up at Hermione's, it was after lunch, and she climbed out of the car and bent at the waist to talk to him.

"Goodbye Dean, and be careful," she said, closing the door and walking off to her house, pulling her keys from her pocket.

In that moment, he made a split-second decision.

"Hermione," he called, stepping out of the car and she turned to face him. "Come with me."

"Excuse me?" She questioned in surprise, her eyes widening and her voice rising.

"Come with me, come hunting."

"I can't," she said, blinking dumbly.

"Why not? You said it yourself, you're not happy here. You miss your old life and mine's similar enough, just different monsters. You can't deny that we make a good team and with your magic, expertise and knowledge coupled with mine, the supernatural doesn't stand a chance against us."

She bit her lip and fiddled with her keys. "I can't, Dean."

"Why? Because you're worried I'd get hurt?" He knew what her problem was, after all, she'd told him about her old partner. "I can take care of myself, but that's not the point. You'll watch out for me and I'll watch out for you. You'll cover my blind spots and I'll cover yours. We do make a good team and you know it. There's nothing keeping you here and you're not happy, so why stay? Why stay when you can travel the US with me, just like you said you wanted to do. I've already shown I trust you enough to watch my back, you just need to trust me, too."

"I..."

"I've a few loose ends to tie up, so you have some time to think about it. Hopefully, I'll see you later."

He climbed into the car and with one last look at her, he drove away.

~000~000~000~

Dean sat in the Impala, parked out front of Hermione's book store, fiddling with his car keys nervously. It'd been two hours since he'd asked Hermione to hunt with him, and although it had been a split-second decision, he'd meant it.

Her magic, knowledge and skills would be a huge asset to have on his side. He'd have someone to watch his back and to rely on and it was always safer to hunt in a pair rather than alone. And he actually liked Hermione. It didn't matter that she was a witch, he knew he could trust her. He knew she was a good person. And he couldn't stomach the thought of not seeing her again. She was the first friend he'd had in as long as he could remember and he didn't want to lose that. She made him laugh and she was smart as hell, he knew that the hunting lifestyle would be a lot more bearable if he had her by his side.

But he'd been sat outside the book store for an hour and he was getting worried that maybe she would stick to her life in Colorado, even if she wasn't happy, even if she did miss her old life.

He waited for another half an hour before disappointment filled him and he resigned himself to the fact he'd be leaving alone. Sighing, he turned on the ignition and was about to drive off when there was a knock on the driver's side window.

Startling, he automatically reached for his gun but soon stopped when he saw the one responsible. Hermione. He felt hope fill him as he turned off the engine and stepped out of the car, seeing Hermione biting at her lip and fiddling with her fingers nervously.

"You've made your decision?"

"I have and you gave me a lot to think about. In as little as a week you've turned my peaceful life upside down."

"Well, I've learned about the existence of magic and magical creatures and only had a day to process it, we've both had a lot on our minds," he replied. "So, what's your answer?"

Dean felt his face fall when she turned around and headed for the door of the store, only she didn't go inside. Instead, she pulled out a piece of paper and stuck it to the door, it reading 'We're closed until further notice, we're sorry for any inconvenience this may cause.'

She turned around to face him, a shy smile appearing on her face and he felt a smile of his own tug at his lips.

"I've a deputy manager but she's away visiting family and she's due back in a few days. Luckily she's a Half-blood witch so I can trust her to manage both sides of the business. I've contacted her, given her a promotion, a pay raise and put the fate of my business in her hands for the time being."

"Then let's go, Little Witch, we've already a case waiting for us."

"Where?" She asked curiously.

"Rawlins, Wyoming. It's a bit of a drive so I hope you like old school rock."

"You kidding? I love The Beatles," she exclaimed happily.

Dean's smile widened. He knew it; she'd knocked him off his feet.

"What are we waiting for, let's go?"

She bent down and his eyes widened upon noticing the ginger fur-ball she now had snuggled in her arms. Damn, he'd forgotten about the cat.

"That's not coming with us," he said.

"Yes, _he_ is," she said. "I've no one else to look after him, where I go, he goes. You'll want him around; kneazles can sense danger, as well as other magical auras. He'll alert us to suspicious behaviour or potential threats. Don't worry about your car, I'll charm it against damage and all Crookshanks does all day is sleep. You won't even know he's here," she said, rounding the car and hopping in the passenger's seat.

Dean grumbled under his breath before climbing back in the car and closing the door, only for Hermione's cat to climb onto his lap and butt his head against his chin. Sighing, Dean reached up and scratched the cat behind the ears, the ugly cat purring and a smug smile pulling at Hermione's mouth. The cat soon climbed into the back seat, curled up in a ball and fell asleep.

"You have everything?"

"Yep," she said, removing a small purse from her pocket and holding it up as evidence. "It's bigger on the inside, bottomless really. My own handiwork and I'm quite proud of it."

He grinned in appreciation. "Nice. Can you read a map?"

She smirked at him, before resting her wand in the palm of her hand and whispering, " _Point Me_."

Dean blinked when the wand levitated off her hand and spun in circles, before coming to a stop and pointing straight ahead.

"There's your map."

He laughed out loud. He had a feeling he was going to love magic.

He reached over and switched on the radio, The Rolling Stones coming through the speakers. He turned to Hermione and grinned at her.

"Welcome to the hunting life, Miss. Granger," he said, before speeding away from the curb and down the road, Hermione's loud laughter being left behind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 10

**One Month Later...**

Dean tilted his head to the side, his mouth tugging into a smile as he sat comfortably in a chair in the evening sun, happily sipping at a beer as he watched the scene in front of him.

Currently in the middle of the motel parking lot, was Hermione, and she washing the Impala. Their last case involved them having to drive down a few dirt roads and in the process the Impala had gotten covered in mud, dirt and dust. Not having time to do anything about it, they’d driven straight to their next destination and given that they arrived barely an hour ago, they’d decided to hold off investigating until the morning and Hermione had taken the opportunity to conjure up a bucket, a sponge and some water and set to cleaning the car.

“Honestly, Dean,” Hermione huffed, making his smile slightly wider as she sent him an annoyed look. “If you can’t look after her, you don’t deserve her!”

“I look after her perfectly fine, thank you,” he replied, holding back his chuckle when she sent him a glare.

Since travelling with her he’d gotten to see her temper, especially when a shape-shifter they’d been after had thrown an axe at her. Dean hadn’t thought it was possible for someone’s eyes to narrow so much, nor did he expect Hermione’s response to the situation. He’d just stood back and let her deal with it, watching in surprise at the injuries she’d dished out. Some of them had even made him wince and had him shutting his eyes and looking away, almost feeling sorry for the shape-shifter. From the day he learned not to anger her, he’d learned her boundaries; how far he could push her before she snapped and lost her temper, and in doing so he was certain he’d saved his life countless times.

“Oh really?” She said, dropping the sponge into the bucket of soapy water, standing up straight and putting her hands on her hips. “Then why is she in such a state?”

“I would’ve gone to a car wash but I didn’t see one on the way and I didn’t want to stop during the drive.”

“Then why aren’t you washing the car now?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I wouldn’t look as good as you do,” he replied, lifting his beer bottle to his mouth to hide his smirk when her eyes narrowed into slits.

“You’re pushing your luck,” she warned him, before turning back to the car, picking up the sponge and continuing where she left off. “And it’s your turn to buy dinner,” she reminded him.

Dean rolled his eyes. Hermione was very stubborn when it came to meal times. He tried to buy her dinner on the first day they’d left Colorado but she’d point blank refused to allow him to pay for everything, as she did with every meal after, and he’d done the same, not wanting her to pay for every meal either. After only a few days of being together, Hermione had proposed that they alternated who paid for meals, as such one of them would buy breakfast and dinner and the other would buy lunch and snacks, and the following day they’d swap.

“I know, the woman at the counter had some takeout menus, I ordered not long ago so it should be here soon.”

“What’d you get?” She asked, reaching up on her tiptoes to reach the roof of the car and he chuckled at her having to do so because compared to him, she was tiny.

“Pizza,”

“With lo...”

“Lots of meat, I know, Glinda.”

“Don’t call me that,” she scowled at him.

He smirked in reply and took a swig from his bottle. Hearing the jingling of a bell, Dean prepared himself for the fat, ginger fur-ball that jumped up onto his lap and meowed in his face before rolling over onto his back and looking at him as if he were stupid.

“You’re very demanding,” Dean said amused, before lifting his hand to scratch at the ugly cat’s stomach, earning a purr in response.

Dean couldn’t deny that he’d grown to like the cat which in itself was odd for him as he was more of a dog person. If he were being honest, cats freaked him out and they had since he was a child, even before his mother had died. But Hermione’s cat was _very_ different and he’d come to understand that, just as he understood that he was also very clever.

Hermione hadn’t been kidding about him being useful when they were working cases. Three weeks ago they’d been walking down the street -receiving strange glances from others as Crookshanks followed behind them as if he were a dog- when he’d suddenly started hissing, before taking off down the street and darting around a corner into a back alleyway. Hermione had immediately followed after him and seeing that she’d pulled her wand, Dean was quick on their heels.

The damn cat had led them straight to a shape-shifter; one that they hadn’t even known was in town as they’d been working a simple salt and burn case. They’d taken out two supernatural beings in the space of a single day and as a reward Dean had bought Crookshanks some tuna and a ball of yarn, which the cat had played with for hours on the back seat of the Impala. Dean knew from Hermione that Crookshanks liked him, but since that day the cat had grown closer to him, as if he were his owner.

He didn’t know how seeing as he locked the door and windows at night, but more often than not Dean would wake in the morning to a heavyweight on his legs and he’d get the fright of his life when the ugly fur-ball came into view. He didn’t know how the damn cat was able to get out of Hermione’s room and into his, but at this point, he’d stopped questioning it. The cat was clever, that’s all he needed to know.

And Hermione hadn’t been kidding about how much he slept either. Within ten minutes of being in the car, he’d fall asleep and wouldn’t wake unless he needed the bathroom or they made a pit-stop and he’d stretch his legs before coming back to the car and falling asleep once more. Dean barely knew he was there, only remembering because every so often the cat would let out a loud snore-like purr in his sleep. Dean could play his music as loud as he wanted to and the cat would never once move or wake, and what made it even better, he’d learned that Hermione liked most of the same bands he did, her dad having been a fan of old rock and playing it in the car and around the house when she was growing up.

Lifting his eyes back to the little witch, he couldn’t believe it’d been only a month since she’d agreed to travel and hunt with him and he’d be lying if he said she’d quickly wormed her way into his heart. He thought it funny how quickly he’d grown to care for her and he never stopped worrying about her safety no matter of her magic protecting her in ways that should’ve been impossible and he was especially impressed with her magical shields.

In the little time they’d been together, he’d gotten to know her almost as well as he knew his brother. Spending so much time together, being in a confined space for hours on end together, watching out for each other and relying on one another, it created a bond of more than just trust. And Dean was glad to see that Hermione _did_ trust him as he’d proven to her that she could. He listened to her concerns regarding their safety before he went in guns blazing, he listened to her precaution methods which she wished to implement and if they had a plan –which they always did thanks to her- he never veered from it. He waited for her to use her magic to do a perimeter check and to give the all-clear, and it was the thing that most resonated with her after what had happened to her late partner.

He’d grown to understand that while she was cautious and she took their safety seriously, she was fearless and fierce. Dean was glad she was on his side as he’d hate to be the one going up against her, especially after everything he’d witnessed.

She was funny; he’d honestly never met someone who could make him laugh like she could. She made the hunting lifestyle less stressful, not only with her magic, but with her calming presence and her quick wit. She had a strange sense of humour but he related to it. She had the uncanny ability to find humour in the most unlikely and dangerous situations. They were once in the middle of an abandoned house and despite there being a violent spirit that was trying to kill them with flying knives and broken pieces of furniture, she’d still found a way to crack a few jokes that had him laughing when he most certainly should’ve been focusing on staying alive. He didn’t know how either of them had made it out of the house unscathed.

The hours spent together driving between cases never felt as long as they actually were because she always kept him entertained, telling him wild and unbelievable stories of cases she’d worked with her late partner, telling him more about the Wizarding World and the magical school she’d gone, too. He’d learned the war was a touchy subject for her, so he never brought it up, but when she felt like sharing more of her past, he listened without interrupting.

And another thing, she cheated at poker! When they played against each other to kill a bit of time, their bets usually being food-related rather than monetary, he thought it was a bit annoying because he cheated, too, but she was better at it given her magic. When she played against others when at a bar, he thought it was the best thing ever. She was the perfect hustler because no one suspected her of cheating! They made the perfect team, he hustled at pool and she poker, together they made more than enough to last them a few days without him leaving behind a trace with using one of his fraudulent credit cards.

He’d known within the first few moments of meeting her that she was kind, but he hadn’t realised just how kind she was. When leaving a diner she’d leave a tip that was more than enough; she bought food and drink or new clothing and a thick blanket to give to the homeless. She’d even helped a little girl when her cat had gotten stuck in a tree, climbing it like Tarzan, and by the time the firemen had arrived to help, she’d already gotten the cat down and given it back to the little girl and drawn a fairly big crowd, too.

When speaking with the friends and families of victims, she was able to calm them in a way he’d never been able to. It was more than her just being a woman and making others comfortable, it was something else entirely, something he wasn’t able to explain but he knew the feeling. When around her she calmed him in a way he’d never felt before. He was always ready for an attack, but he still felt calm, he still felt relaxed and peaceful.

And God was she smart! He’d never met anyone with as big a brain as her. Seeing as he’d always found the research part of the job boring and he hated it, Hermione had taken up the mantle and he couldn’t deny she was good at it. The majority of the time she’d found what they were looking for within an hour or two and she was able to cite her sources, as well spout off page numbers and extracts from the books. Though he’d learned it was best that she stay away from computers after witnessing an incident in a library and it hadn’t been pretty, and since that day if online research was needed he reluctantly did it.

She absorbed knowledge like a sponge and she was a fast learner, having learned the majority of the exorcism chants he knew in only a few days. He now understood why she was a language expert, too, learning that the majority of her spells were Latin, while there was a few French, Spanish and Mandarin in her repertoire, too. And she was a whiz at translating ancient texts; he’d been surprised to learn she’d been doing so since she was thirteen. And while he was an expert on the supernatural, she was most certainly the expert on creatures such as vampires and werewolves, spouting off information he’d never even heard of before and he was more than surprised to learn.

“Dean, pass me that cloth, would you?”

Dean shook his head, reached over to grab the cloth from the table beside him and threw it over to her. Of course, it was too light to actually reach her and it landed on the floor in-between them.

“There you go, Poppins.”

“You really need to stop stereotyping me or I swear to God you’ll soon feel a true witch’s hexing. And if you ever call me Poppins or Glinda again, I’ll knock you out and dump you in the middle of nowhere without a single stitch of clothing,” she warned with narrowed eyes, before walking over to pick the cloth up from the ground and of course, he was helpless but to look at her ass when she bent over.

Catching sight of something from the corner of his eye, he turned his head to the left, seeing several young-looking men –probably college kids, he thought- either standing in the doorways of their rooms or looking out the windows and they weren’t trying to hide the fact they watching her, too.

A glare found its way onto his face and he felt jealousy and annoyance bubble up within him. Logically he knew he had no right to feel such things, as he and Hermione’s weren’t actually together, nor were they sleeping together, but that didn’t stop those feelings from surfacing. The one downside to travelling with Hermione was that with her being both beautiful and British, she got plenty of attention, especially when they’d go for a drink at a bar. Dean hated that other men would approach her and offer to buy her a drink, that they’d try to sweet-talk her into going home with them and he hated it even more that they did it right in front of him.

Once he’d almost broken a guy’s nose because he’d grabbed Hermione’s ass when she’d walked past him on the way to the bathroom. That night Hermione had proven that despite her size, she was stronger than he realised, and he’d never felt more proud when she’d turned around and gave the guy a black eye with a right hook that was so impressive, it surprised him she was capable of such a thing.

He hated when she’d smile at other men and talked to them and it would encourage them to continue trying to get into her pants. The one thing that brought him comfort was that he knew she had her head screwed on, he knew she was only responding to be kind and he knew she had no intentions of going home with a stranger, no matter how good looking he was, no matter how much he complimented her and no matter how many times he tried to buy her a drink as she’d always refuse the offer.

He’d asked her once, why she never showed an interest in any of the men that approached her and she’d explained that she could never bring herself to have a one night stand. She had no problem with others doing so and living their lives how they wished to, but she needed more from a man that a drunken tumble in the sheets. She needed to be able to trust the man she entered into a relationship with.

And that had got him thinking; from the moment he met her she’d done nothing but make him laugh, watch his back and ensure his safety. She’d done nothing but tease him, and annoy him and outsmart him. He was attracted to her and he took the opportunity to flirt with her as much as possible, whether she knew he was flirting or not was another thing entirely. He enjoyed her company, she kept him sane and she made his life easier, a little brighter. He thought her to be his personal ball of sunshine; she was always smiling, always singing under her breath or dancing about in her seat in the car.

And he knew her views on one night stands, but as the days went by and they grew closer, he found himself wondering what it would be like to actually have a relationship. He’d never actually had a girlfriend; he didn’t even think he’d slept with the same woman more than once. He liked Hermione far too much to ever just use her in such a way. He _hated_ seeing other men show their interest in her. He was protective of her, not as a friend and certainly not as a brother, because he’d come to realise that he _liked_ her.

He was curious to know what being in a relationship with Hermione would be like; though he was sure it wouldn’t be much different to what they were now but they’d likely share a room instead, at least her damn cat wouldn’t have to sneak into his room when he was asleep.

He had to decide if he wished to take the risk, because that’s what it was. A risk. If he took a chance and showed his interest in her it could go one of three ways; her rejecting him which may lead to awkwardness between them, or she’d do the opposite, in which could be dangerous as they spent so much time together they’d barely have a break from each other or space to themselves. Or everything could go just fine and they’d continue as they were, only they’d be _together_. 

It was a huge risk because he _did_ care for her and she was his best friend and he didn’t want to jeopardise what they already had. But he couldn’t stand the thought of her being with someone else, but he couldn’t stand the thought of her leaving over something he’d done.

“Oi!”

Dean’s eyes lifted from the ground and to Hermione to see her standing with her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed at the young men watching her from across the parking lot. His mouth twitched, recognising her current stance and the annoyed look on her face.

“Are you perverts going to stand there all day or are you going to help me?” She called.

Dean turned to look at the young men, laughter threatening to bubble out of him as some of them looked sickly, some of them went bright red in the face and others shifted nervously and looked away from Hermione.

“That’s what I thought,” Hermione said. “I really don’t wish to feature in any of your weird little fantasies when you have a wank tonight, so I suggest you do what other men do and watch some porn and delete your internet history afterwards.”

Dean couldn’t hold back his laughter and it burst out of him and he received a look of annoyance from the fur-ball on his lap, but he didn’t care.

“And I swear to God, if any of you little creeps have taken any photographs, I’d delete them now or I’ll break each and every one of your noses!” She threatened before her attention was pulled by the delivery guy and her eyes lit up.

Sobering up, Dean shook his head in amusement; he could honestly say he’d never met someone who ate as much as Hermione did. He’d seen her eat almost double what he did and then finish off the rest of his food, claiming that she hated waste. He didn’t understand how someone as small as she could eat so much.

Gently nudging Crookshanks off his lap, he put his beer down and dug into his pocket to pull out some money to pay for their food. By the time he approached the delivery guy, Hermione had already finished up with drying the car, made her way over to him and darted off with the pizza boxes in hand.

Rolling his eyes, he paid the delivery guy and followed after Hermione into his room, seeing Crookshanks being sprawled out on his bed and lounging in the evening sun that streamed through the window, and Hermione was sat at the table with all three pizza boxes open and she already had two slices in her hands.

“That’s mine,” he said, shrugging off his leather jacket, hooking it over the back of the chair and taking a seat opposite her.

She shrugged her shoulders. “It smelt good, I couldn’t resist,” she replied, before she put one slice in her mouth, reached down to pick up another from her own box and placing it in his to make up for her stealing one of his.

Dean blinked in surprise; she _never_ shared food, not even with her cat. 

“So, what do you think we’re dealing with?” She asked.

“Can’t be sure until we do a bit of digging,” he replied.

“Wanna make a bet?” She asked. “If you can correctly guess what we’re dealing with _before_ we start investigating, I’ll bake you as many pies as you want for an entire month.”

He knew that was too good an opportunity to pass up.

“And if I don’t?”

“You owe me,” she shrugged.

“Owe you what?”

“You owe me a favour and I can call upon it whenever I need to, there’s no time limit.”

He eyed her curiously before slowly nodding his head, besides, the little information they had was enough to make a guesstimate.

“Bobby said there’s been several unexplained deaths in the last couple of months, and there seems to happen every couple of years. He only went as far back as ten years but when we start investigating I won’t be surprised if we discover this goes back further. Going off that, I’m going to say it’s either a violent or vengeful spirit, a simple salt and burn,” he said.

She snorted at him. “I don’t know what you mean by simple, as I’ve yet to see a _simple_ case with you.”

He conceded her point, knowing she was right. Nothing was ever as easy as it should’ve been.

“You know, I’m getting tired of fast food and diners,” Hermione spoke. “How about tomorrow I whip up something with a little magic instead?”

“You can do that?” He asked.

“It’s impossible to conjure food out of thin air, just as it’s impossible to duplicate food, but there are culinary spells that speed up the cooking of food and there’s spells to aid with the preparation of food and ingredients. I’ll be limited to what I can cook without an oven but it’s possible. Anything you fancy?”

His face pulled into a thoughtful frown. “Spaghetti,” he answered.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten spaghetti; he used to avoid it when he was younger as he remembered it being his mother’s signature dish, but as Sam grew older it became one of his favourites. Dean wondered if he’d chosen that dish due to him missing his brother. They may not have always seen eye to eye and despite the falling out Sam and their father had, they were still brothers. One day he was there and the next he’d run off to college. They barely spoke anymore and Dean wouldn’t admit it out loud but he did miss his little brother, at least a little.

“Spaghetti, I can do that,” she nodded. “I just need a pan, some water and an open flame. Alright, spaghetti it is.”

Dean felt his mouth tug into a smile and his eyes darted down to his pocket where his cell phone was hidden away. Maybe he should call his brother and see how he was doing, but would he answer?

Shaking his head, Dean decided against it, not wanting to disturb his little brother when he was out trying to live his life. He couldn’t blame Sam for wanting to leave, for not wanting to join the _family business_ , but at the same time he couldn’t actually believe he’d just up and left, and that he’d done so after an argument.

“Dean!”

Dean shook his head and looked down at the pizza crust Hermione had just thrown at him.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he warned in amusement.

“It’s not my fault you were ignoring me,” she replied. “I said I’m going for a walk and then I’ll turn in for the night. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

“Be careful,” he said.

“You’re forgetting who you’re talking to,” she said, standing from the table and banishing the empty pizza boxes with her wand, before leaving out the room.

Dean’s eyes followed her movements from his place sat in front of the window before she vanished from view.

“She’ll be okay, right?” He asked aloud, receiving a meow in response from the lazy, fat cat sprawled out and sunbathing on his bed. “Yeah, I think so, too. Right, I’m going for a shower, keep an eye on things out here,” he said to the cat, once more earning a meow in response.

Standing from the table, he headed for the bathroom, scratching the cat behind the ears as he walked past him. Stepping into the bathroom, Dean had decided he wanted Hermione. Not just for sex, not just for a bit of fun; he wanted all of her. And her damn cat, too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 7

**One Month Later...**

A knock on the door startled Dean and he pulled his attention away from the crappy movie that was on TV and turned his eyes to the door. Hearing the knock again, he stood from his position lounging on the bed and made his way to the door, unlocking it and opening it far enough that he was able to peek around the edge and see who it was.

Amusement bubbled within him when he saw it was Hermione and she had a less than pleased look on her face. Opening the door wider, he stepped out from behind it and allowed his eyes to take in the scene in front of him, while also being aware of Crookshanks finding his way into his room and onto the bed.

Hermione stood before him wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around herself and it left little to the imagination. Her damp hair hung down her back, water droplets ran down her pale skin and his eyes followed one particular water droplet which disappeared into the cleavage of her breasts before he looked back to her face.

He didn't bother doing any of the tests to make sure she was who she was supposed to be; not only had Crookshanks been at her side, but no one but Hermione was able to express her annoyance in one single glance. Not a shape-shifter and certainly not a demon, which reminded him he had to convince her to get the anti-possession tattoo at some point, too.

"What's up?" He asked, barely containing his amusement.

Her annoyance seemed to double when she let out an angry huff and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Can I use your shower? Mine's bloody broken. I've called the front desk and they can't get anyone down here to fix it until tomorrow."

He stepped aside and gestured to the bathroom door with a tilt of his head. She gave him a look of relief and thanks as she stepped into the room and made her way to the bathroom, Dean noting that she left wet footprints behind in the hideous carpet.

For the first time since meeting her, he noticed several scars that he'd never seen before. One looking like claw marks on the back of her left calf, one looking like puncture marks on the back of her right shoulder and another close to her right ankle, looking like a burn. He wondered where she'd gotten them and if she had more that he was unable to see.

As the door closed behind Hermione, Dean made his way back over to his bed and got himself comfortable, barely registering when Crookshanks crawled over to him, rolled onto his back and offered up his stomach, and of course, Dean couldn't deny the ginger fur-ball anything and automatically lifted his hand to give the demanding familiar what he wanted before he received a telling off from the cat.

Hearing the shower running, Dean's thoughts fell to the little witch currently in his bathroom. Another month had passed since they'd been travelling together and in that time he'd been trying to get Hermione to see that he wanted a relationship with her. He didn't want to come out and outright say it to her in case it backfired, so he was trying to be subtle, but let's be honest, subtlety wasn't his strong suit. He wasn't sure if Hermione was ignoring his flirting and charming smiles on purpose or if she just didn't realise his intentions. He knew she wasn't blind when it came to other men flirting with her, but with him, it seemed she was.

He wasn't exactly sure how to proceed with his plan of 'wooing' her as she seemed to be immune to it all. She was one of the few people that didn't fall for his charming smiles or his good looks; she wasn't affected by it which just made it harder for him.

When the bathroom door opened his eyes moved to the doorway and Hermione stepped out with her damp hair hanging down her back and wearing a pair of cotton shorts and the matching tank top, which again, left little to the imagination. Unable to stop himself, his eyes trailed her frame and he noted a few other scars that littered her body.

She had another burn mark on her left shoulder, one close to her left knee and he noted the scar that ran across her throat and there were only one of two things that would cause that, but the most alarming scar was on her left forearm, the word 'mudblood' looking to have been carved into her by a child. And whilst he didn't know the meaning of the word, it didn't take a genius to understand it certainly wasn't a compliment.

"Why is your room nicer than mine?" Hermione asked and without thought, she hopped up onto the bed beside him and laid down, propping her head up with pillows and resting her clasped hands against her stomach as she turned her eyes to the TV.

"Is it?" He asked, his eyes watching her intently.

"Yes, _much_ nicer. There's a stain on the floor and I don't even want to know what it is, the table's got a wobbly leg and the TV only has one channel that works. And I swear, I have the nosiest neighbours possible," she said, a grimace pulling at her face and he chuckled, catching on to her meaning.

"I swear, the way they're going it at I wouldn't be surprised if one of them is cheating on someone. I have no idea how I'm supposed to sleep through that."

"You wanna swap rooms?" He asked.

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes locking with his. "That's sweet of you to offer, but honestly, if you were able to sleep through the racket they're making, you wouldn't be able to sleep on the bed. Not only is it the most uncomfortable mattress in existence, but it's also broken, too. You can actually see where the slabs have broken beneath the mattress."

He snorted at her. "You wanna stay in here tonight? You can take the bed and I'll take the floor."

"I'm not kicking you out of your bed, Dean," she replied, turning her attention back to the TV. Dean opened his mouth to reply, but she spoke before he could. "Are you hungry?"

He snorted. "No,"

She frowned. "Well, I am,"

"You ate a few hours ago," he replied amused.

"And yet I'm hungry," she shrugged.

He blinked in surprise when her wand seemed to appear out of nowhere and her magical bag of tricks soon appeared after it. She dug around inside and Dean was adamant he'd never get used to the sight of her hand disappearing, nor of the sounds of rattling and banging that came from inside the bag. When she pulled her hand back, he noted that she had several candy bars and some popcorn grasped in her hand. Turning her attention back to the TV, she absentmindedly ate her snacks while offering him some and he'd be an idiot not to accept food from her giving her dislike of sharing.

By the time the movie had finished and the credits were rolling, Dean looked over to Hermione realising she'd been quiet for a while and once he saw her, he realised why. She'd fallen asleep.

She'd shifted sometime during the movie and was now laying on her side, facing him with a hand cushioning her cheek, her legs bent at the knees and her breathing even and deep as Crookshanks slept in-between them, his head being cushioned on Hermione's stomach.

Dean realised he'd never seen Hermione so relaxed. She looked a lot younger when she was sleeping, like she'd easily be able to pass for a teenager. He could see her eyes moving beneath her eyelids and wondered what she was dreaming of.

Not wanting to wake her but knowing it was getting colder in the room, he reached for her magical bag and dug around inside until he found a blanket, pulled it out and draped it over her to protect her from the cold. Kicking off his shoes, he laid back down on the bed and quietly watched the next movie that began to play and before he knew it, he fell asleep.

~000~000~000~

Dean was woken when he felt the mattress shifting and an elbow nudging his stomach. His eyes opened to darkness and he looked over his shoulder at the alarm clock on the bedside table, seeing it being not long after three o'clock.

Feeling another jab in his ribs, he turned back to Hermione and was more than surprised to see that sometime during his slumber, both he and Hermione had moved. Now she was facing away from him and he was...Well, spooning her with his arms wrapped around her and holding her snugly against him and Crookshanks was curled up on the end of the bed by their feet.

Blinking in surprise he pulled back from her and pushed himself up onto his elbows, his eyes watching her carefully. As the seconds ticked by she grew more restless, her body twitching in her sleep before she rolled onto her back and her head started moving from side to side. Whispered words fell from her lips but he was unable to understand them. His eyes moved down to her hands, seeing them clenched into tight fists, he saw her chest rising and falling erratically and when he looked closer it was to see that sweat was forming on her forehead.

She was having a nightmare. He knew. Not only had he experienced a few himself, but Sam had suffered with them in his youth and with their father always being away, Dean had to learn how to calm his little brother. He knew from experience it was best not to wake someone from a nightmare, especially if they were a war veteran like Hermione. It'd be the same as waking a sleepwalker. Dangerous.

"No, please don't," she muttered, her mumbles becoming clearer and louder, allowing him to hear what she was saying, but if they were getting louder, then her nightmare was growing worse.

"We don't have it! It's just a fake, it's not real! Please don't!"

Dean felt his heartbreaking. He knew her past was traumatising and he knew there were things she was still keeping from him, and from what he was witnessing now, he guessed this was one of them.

"No! Please stop! I don't know! STOP!"

He had to help her and he did it the only way he knew how. Moving closer to her, he was careful to avoid her flailing limbs and he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around her, not only preventing her from being able to hit him with her fists and arms, but pulling her into him, too. Lowering his mouth to her ear, he softly whispered words of comfort and before he knew it, the lyrics of 'Hey Jude' were falling from his lips and he hummed the tune to her. It seemed to help and slowly her pleas and cries stopped and her tense body relaxed against him, yet he didn't stop his humming or the muttering of the lyrics, not even when he became aware of the change in her breathing and her eyes slowly opening.

"What happened?" She asked, her voice quiet, embarrassed he thought.

"Nightmare," he said softly, not releasing her from his hold, realising like he liked having her so close to him, he liked holding her against him. Her smaller frame fit against him perfectly and her scent of apples and caramel invaded his nose. It reminded him of pie. It was comforting and warm.

"How bad was it?"

"I'm not sure," he replied honestly. He assumed she had a scale nightmares would rank on, but he couldn't answer her question having this only been his first time witnessing one.

"Did I hurt you? Did I set the curtains on fire?"

"No to both, and you've done that before?"

"Yes," she replied quietly. "You must've calmed me before it had a chance to happen. How did you know what to do? The last time someone tried to help me, they woke me and I almost killed them."

"It's not your fault," he told her softly. "Sammy used to get nightmares as a kid, with my dad being gone I had to look after him, I soon learned what he needed."

"I'm sorry, Dean," she said shamefully and she turned her eyes away from him.

"It's not your fault, Poppins," he replied. She disentangled her arms from his and smacked at his shoulder, pulling a chuckle from him. "You've suffered more than most and you were very young at the time. Suffering with nightmares is a normal thing for what you've gone through. I get nightmares sometimes and I haven't seen or been forced to do half the things you have, especially at such a young age. You shouldn't be ashamed. You survived. Alright?"

Slowly she nodded and she shifted to get more comfortable and he noted that she didn't pull away from him or ask him to release her from his hold, in fact, she shifted closer to him. Whether she knew she'd done it or not was unknown to him.

"Do you wanna talk about it? Sometimes it helps," he asked.

She fell silent and her eyes darted to the ceiling, staring at an unknown stain. "I've told you there's so much that's happened in my past that I haven't told you because I don't like to talk about it, I don't like to be reminded that it really did happen to me, and my nightmare, it's caused by one of those things," she said quietly.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Hermione."

She continued as if he hadn't spoken and he felt touched that she was willing to share a secret of hers with him, especially one that seemed to scare her.

"Not many people know, in fact, I can count on one hand the number of people that do, but during the war, when Harry, Ron and I were fugitives and searching for a way to kill Voldemort, we were captured."

Dean's arms automatically tightened around her protectively and his breath hitched. He'd heard of the things Voldemort and his followers had done, of the things they were capable of. They had no morals, no code and secretly he thought of them as demons with souls- black, tainted souls, but souls all the same. He knew there was a special place in hell reserved for those type of people. Learning that she'd been captured, it didn't paint pretty images in his mind, rather the opposite and he felt himslef growing angry and protective and worried.

"I did what I could to hide Harry's identity and he and Ron were taken to the holding cells in the dungeon, and as I'm a Muggleborn, an abomination and expendable, they interrogated me. I was tortured."

Dean was unable to stop the animalistic growl that rumbled in his chest. He felt anger course through him and the need for revenge, for punishment was strong.

"The Cruciatus is unlike anything you've ever felt. Think of all possible forms of torture and roll them into one and it still doesn't come close to the pain it causes. It's been known to break a person, to send you into madness and leave you a shell of a human being that can barely function. I don't know how long it lasted, it could've only been a few minutes but it felt like an eternity. I don't know how but I was able to tell the truth without giving away any information that would harm The Order, yet they didn't stop. When they got everything they could from me, they still continued as if I were their little plaything. It's a blur and I can't remember much of what happened, not after this..." She trailed off and lifted her arm, despite the darkness he could just make out the lettering he'd seen earlier.

"They carved this into me with a cursed blade that means it will never truly heal, and I can only cover it with sleeves. It's a derogatory name for someone of my status, for a Muggleborn. It literally means we're filth, an abomination and that we don't deserve our magic or our lives. I passed out as she was carving the last letter into my arm. When I woke Harry and Ron had escaped the dungeons and come to rescue me. I was held at knifepoint," she said and his eyes darted to the scar on her throat, so his assumptions had been right. "With the help of a truly brave house-elf known as Dobby, we escaped and he sacrificed his life so we could defeat Voldemort."

Dean's hands had clenched into fists and a vein in his head looked about ready to pop. Feeling a gentle touch on his forehead, he pulled his eyes back to Hermione, seeing her reaching up with her hand and softly trailing her fingers over it.

"I want a name, Hermione," he said, his voice low and dark, his eyes filled with promises of pain and death.

"Bellatrix, Bellatrix Lestrange," she whispered. "But you can't kill her."

"I'd like to see you stop me."

"You can't kill her; she's already dead."

Shit! Well, that's just ruined his plans. He knew the crazy bitch was in hell and he hoped she was suffering.

"Did it hurt?"

"Probably not," she answered. "Molly Weasley killed her during the Final Battle. Not only had she lost Fred not long before, but Bellatrix targeted Ginny, her only daughter and youngest child. In her rage and anguish, she overpowered Bellatrix and she was blown into thousands of pieces as if she'd stepped on a bomb. There was nothing left of her to bury."

"Good," he said darkly. "I'm pissed she didn't suffer, but I'm glad she's dead."

"You and the rest of the world. She was bat-shit crazy, and I don't use that term lightly. She was a true psychopath, the bloody Queen in fact."

He snorted at her and his tightly fisted hands loosened and they moved to rest gently against her back.

"You know I won't let anyone hurt you, right?" He muttered.

She let out a sigh. "I know," she confirmed softly and he would swear his heart melted when she tilted her head and pressed it against his chest, falling back to sleep minutes later.

Dean knew that he was in far deeper than he'd previously realised.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 9

**One Month Later...**

"DEAN! DUCK!"

"Shit!" Dean cursed.

He threw himself towards the ground, catching himself on his hands just as a vampire went flying over his head and slammed into a wall. If he hadn't moved when he did, it wouldn't have been pretty. Dean had to hand it to Hermione, she sure packed a punch; with and without magic.

"You okay!"

"Fine, you!" He called back.

He sprung back up onto his feet and swung his machete as a second vampire charged at him. He'd had his arm at just the right angle and was able to take the head off before the vampire had even realised it was coming. The body dropped to the ground and the head rolled across the floor and he had to jump over it as he turned his attention to the vampire behind him, not looking the least bit pleased with being slammed into a wall and witnessing his friend being destroyed.

He was glad he had Hermione and her magic on his side as they were up against a nest of five vampires, more than they'd originally thought. If it weren't for Hermione and her meticulous perimeter searches they would've walked straight into an ambush. They'd been expecting two at the most, it being an easy enough situation to deal with, but things had been made a lot more difficult by being outnumbered five to two.

Swinging his arm once more, his target was able to avoid his machete and Dean barely managed to dodge the blow to his face, and that's when he realised he hadn't received a reply from Hermione.

"Hermione!" He called, swinging for the vampire once more and he just nicked the skin of his neck, enough to wound but not to kill.

A crash sounded throughout the abandoned building and it was soon followed by a loud cry. Panic and worry filled his stomach and made him feel sick; he knew he had to find her and make sure she was fine but before that, he had to take care of the vampire in front of him.

His worry and need to get to Hermione gave Dean a swift kick up the ass and using it, he was able to behead the vampire. Not bothering to stay and watch the body crumple to the ground, he spun on his heel and quickly made his way through the maze of crates and metal shelving units in search of Hermione. He was as quiet as possible whilst looking for her as he knew at least three of the vampires were dead, Hermione having killed one upon their entrance into the building and the two he'd just dealt with. Since he and Hermione had been forced to separate he was unaware if she'd managed to kill the last two so he had to keep his wits about him.

Coming to a dead-end in the maze, he let out a curse of annoyance before hauling himself up onto a crate and dropping down on the other side, following the path. As soon as he turned left a body came into view and although it appeared to be a woman, he sighed in relief knowing the clothing was different. It wasn't Hermione and she'd killed a vampire, which just left one unaccounted for.

An explosion sounded from across the other side of the building and Dean did his best to keep his steps quiet but it was impossible when his boots sounded against the floor as he ran towards the explosion, no longer following the path but jumping and climbing over the crates and storage containers so he could get there faster.

It was to his relief to see that the explosion appeared to have been a gas bottle and in the process of being detonated, it had blown the fifth and final vampire to pieces, the limbs and head being separated from the body. Knowing he no longer had anything to worry about, he searched the area for Hermione, calling out her name but he received no reply which certainly didn't calm him.

Coming to another dead end he was about to turn around and head back the way he came, when from the corner of his eyes he caught sight of a collapsed shelving unit. His stomach dropped, his breath caught and he felt himself grow dizzy when he saw a familiar head of riotous curls poking through the rubble that surrounded it.

Dean dropped his machete to the ground and darted forward, stumbling as he climbed over the rubble to get to her.

"Hermione!" He called, picking up the smaller pieces of rubble and throwing them off to the side to make more room to get to her, all the while calling her name and muttering curse words beneath his breath.

He stilled when he heard a groan of pain and he saw movement from beneath the shelving unit she was trapped under.

"Hermione?"

"Dean?" she replied, her voice quiet and confused, he'd never felt so relieved to hear her voice.

"Hang on, I'm gunna get you out," he spoke, going back to doing his best to remove the rubble.

"Where's my wand? I can blast my way out, can you see it?"

Dean didn't particularly like the idea of causing another explosion and creating more rubble to bury her beneath, but he knew better than to argue with her. Looking around, his eyes searched for her wand and he caught sight of it, the tip peeking out between some of the rubble.

"I've found it," he informed her, climbing over the rubble to retrieve it and moving back over to her, as close as he could get. "Can you move? Can you reach for it if I pass it through?"

"I haven't got much room to move, but I should be able to grab it if you pass it through a gap that's close to my head," she replied.

"Alright, I'm passing it through."

Finding a gap big enough to fit her wand through wasn't easy but he'd managed to do so and when he felt a tug, he let go to and saw it disappear into the rubble.

"Great, now move as far back as you can, I don't want you getting hurt by the debris," she instructed.

He didn't like the idea of leaving her alone but knew she was right. If she was injured beneath the rubble, he wouldn't be able to get her to safety if he got hurt with the raining debris she was about to send flying everywhere.

"I'm clear!" He called from his place ducked behind several crates and he felt himself startle when a loud explosion sounded and he heard the shelving unit hit the floor.

He waited a few moments to let the air and debris settle before darting over to Hermione who was surrounded by a mountain of rubble. He climbed over to her carefully and jumped down into the cleared area, landing beside her. As he kneeled down, his eyes scanned her for injuries, seeing only a few scrapes and a cut on her forehead that trickled blood. Her eyes locked with his and she gave him a weak smile from her place sprawled out on the floor and it helped to calm him a little.

"I'm fine," she told him. "Though I think my leg's broken, I've a potion that'll fix it within a few hours."

"Do you think you can walk?" He asked her, his eyes darting down to her leg and then back to her face.

His worry must've shown because she reached out and took his hand in hers, giving it a comforting squeeze. Dean realised he had to pull himself together; she was the injured one, it should've been him taking care of her, not the other way around.

"I don't know," she answered.

Reaching for her hand that grasped her wand, he took it from her and slipped it up his sleeve before taking her hand in his and gently pulling her up from the ground and back to her feet. As soon as she was upright she swayed and fell against him, her face burying against his chest and his arms came up to wrap around her, keeping her steady and holding her to him.

"Steady," he muttered into her ear and he heard her take a deep breath.

"Went a little light-headed, banged my head during the explosion," she replied quietly.

"Don't be falling asleep on me," he said, knowing it wasn't safe for someone with a possible head injury to fall asleep not long after.

"Can't promise that," she muttered back.

"Let's see if you can walk, yeah?"

She nodded her head against his chest and slowly pulled back from him, turning to take a step. Her legs buckled beneath her and Dean caught her before she hit the ground and injured her leg worse. Without thought and effort, he lifted her up into his arms and though she looked less than impressed at being the 'damsel in distress', she wrapped her arms around his neck and stayed quiet.

"Let's get out of here," he said, doing his best to keep balance as he climbed over the rubble until he reached a flat surface.

He was able to navigate his way out of the building and before leaving, Hermione took her wand from him, summoned his machete and set fire to the building to destroy any evidence of either of them being there.

Thankfully it was a short trip to the car and it didn't take long to reach their motel either and he carried her to their shared room. After three months of being together, this was the first case in which there'd only been one room available and so they had to share. The room did have two separate beds, but sharing hadn't felt all that wrong or inappropriate to Dean. Not after Hermione had fallen asleep in his room –and bed- several times whilst watching movies with him late into the night.

With his hands full and unable to reach the motel key, Hermione used her magic to open the door and get them into their room and he set her down on his bed, it being closest to the door.

"What do you need?" He asked immediately.

She held her hand up in a gesture for him to give her a moment and he blinked when she muttered under her breath with her wand pointed at her injured leg and what appeared to be an x-ray scan appeared before her.

"Broken in three places," she sighed. "Right, I need my bag; there should be a Pain Relief Potion and a Skele-Gro Potion inside it, and I need some Dittany, too. They're all clearly labelled, one a dark blue colour, one clear and the other a pale pink colour."

Dean pulled her bag from its place stashed away in his pocket and dug around inside, it taking him a little time to find what she needed given that the bag contained God knows what and it was a bottomless pit. When he found the correct potions, Hermione thanked him and took them both before conjuring herself a glass of water to wash away the awful taste that was left behind. She then put a little Dittany over her scrapes and head wound and then she turned her attention to greeting her familiar as he jumped up onto the bed and laid down beside her.

"I'm fine," she said, though he wasn't sure if it was for his benefit or the cat's. "My bones will have mended within a few hours and I'll be fine to walk soon after. So, are you hungry?"

He found himself blinking, before shaking his head at her, his worry fading into relief and amusement. If she was asking about food he knew she was fine.

"A little," he answered.

"Thank God!" She breathed out. "I'm starving, what should we have?"

"It's your night," he shrugged.

"I can't exactly go anywhere, can I? So, your choice."

"I saw a Chinese place not far from here," he offered.

"Great, I love Chinese," she said happily.

"And Italian, Mexican, Thai, Greek..."

"So I love food, is that a crime?" She asked.

He snorted at her. "No, it means you're perfect..." His eyes widened; he hadn't meant for that to be said aloud.

"Perfect?" She repeated, her eyebrow cocking questioningly.

"I won't be long," he said, before rushing out of the room and locking the door behind him.

He was only gone half an hour at most before he returned to the motel room with food and thankfully Hermione didn't question him about his hasty retreat, forgetting about it as soon as he put her food in front of her. He knew her order off by heart by this point, as she did for him when the roles were reversed.

Sitting beside her on his bed, they ate in silence and watched the TV and a few hours later Hermione turned to him and he prayed she didn't bring up what he'd said earlier.

"I'm bored," she said.

"Poker?" He asked.

"I'm getting tired of beating you," she replied.

"You don't beat me, you _out-cheat_ me," he corrected.

"I still win," she shrugged.

He rolled his eyes. "What do you want to do?"

He knew it wouldn't be good for him when a smirk pulled at her mouth and she reached for her magical bag and dug around inside it. He immediately shook his head when he saw what she gripped in her hand.

"No, not a chance in hell," he said.

"Come on, Dean, I'm sure you'll look lovely."

"Not happening,"

"They're good for you, you'll feel better after."

"Not happening," he repeated.

"It is," she argued.

"No,"

Before he saw it coming and proving that Hermione's magical potions had done the trick in fixing her leg, he found himself being tackled onto the bed and Hermione was soon straddling his stomach. He felt himself stilling beneath her and in his surprise, he didn't stop her from covering his face in the grey cream she squirted into the palm of her hand. He just stared at her, his eyes wide, his heart pounding in his chest and his hands automatically reaching up to grip at her hips.

"Ha, there!" She said, crossing her arms over her chest and looking down at him smugly. "Actually, I take it back; you don't look lovely. You look like something we'd hunt, it's quite terrifying," she spoke, climbing off him and moving to sit beside him.

Clearing his throat and pulling himself together, he pushed himself up and moved until his back hit the wall behind him and he propped himself up with pillows, silently watching Hermione as she pulled her hair up into a messy knot on top of her head and she applied the same grey cream to her own face, watching herself in the compact mirror she'd pulled from her bag. When she'd finished, she propped herself up against some pillows and sat beside him, watching the TV as Crookshanks curled up in a ball in-between them and fell asleep.

"Right, let's wash this off," she said half an hour later, standing up from the bed, reaching for his hand and tugging her after him and into the bathroom.

He stood by the doorway and watched as she washed the grey mask from her face, patting herself dry with a towel, one of her own of course, as she refused to use the motel's supplied towels.

"Your turn," she said, moving over to him and reaching up to hold his chin gently with her fingers as she washed the evidence of her torture away with gentle swipes of the soft cloth.

"I must say, you're glowing and it's done wonders for your skin," she said, moving away from him and looking pleased with herself.

Moving over to the mirror, he brought his hand up to his face and felt that it did actually feel softer and he wasn't sure how, but it just looked healthier, too.

"Not bad," he admitted.

"So you'll do this again?" She questioned.

"If it happens the same way it did this time, sure," he muttered beneath his breath, glad she didn't hear him as she turned and left back to watch TV.

~000~000~000~

**One week later...**

"We have to get out of here," Hermione said, surprisingly calm given the house they were currently in was surrounded by police with their guns aimed and pointed at the property.

They'd been vanquishing a vengeful spirit and after hearing the gunshots, the neighbours had called the police. They'd only just managed to find and destroy the object tying the spirit to earth when they heard the sirens.

"You have an idea?" He asked, peeking his head through the curtains and ducking back out of the way before he was spotted by someone, ignoring the voice coming through the megaphone telling them to surrender their weapons. "And quick, by the looks of it they're bringing in the smoke bombs."

"Climb out the window and make a run for it, I can't risk anyone witnessing me using magic in an attempt to escape. We need to keep this as muggle as possible."

"Window it is," he said, heading for the kitchen.

"I'll create a distraction," she muttered.

She disappeared from view and he didn't know what she'd done, but he soon heard an explosion, but not quite like a bomb, something else, and he saw smoke from the window, giving them cover to run for it.

Hermione was beside him before she hopped up onto the counter and climbed out the window and he followed after her, covering their mouths as they darted past the police surrounding the back of the house. They were able to make it a few houses away before they were alerted to them being chased.

"Shit!" Dean cursed before he and Hermione darted down the street, running until they got stitches in their sides and they were out of breath.

Dean was trying to formulate a plan to allow them to get away when he felt Hermione grab his arm and tug hard, pulling him in the direction of a small back alleyway that separated two houses.

She pulled him to a stop and before Dean could ask what she was up to she'd tapped her wand against his t-shirt and his clothing changed, his t-shirt from green to blue, his jeans from blue to black and his leather jacket from black to brown. He blinked in surprise and she done the same to herself, changing her black t-shirt white, her blue jeans black and her hooded jacket from blue to black. With one final flick of her wand, he saw her hair change to blonde and he assumed she'd changed his hair colour, too. He had to give it to her; she was brilliant.

Hearing footfalls and voices approaching, she turned to look at him.

"Just go with it," she said, her eyes darting in the direction of the approaching policemen.

"What?" He said confused, until she did something he definitely wasn't expecting.

She reached up and took his face in her hands and pulled him down to her, pressing her mouth against his.

He froze in surprise and disbelief before he pulled himself together, backed her up until her back hit the wall and his hands moved to bury themselves in her hair, getting tangled in the soft, riotous curls. She let out a little noise of surprise and he used that as invitation to swipe his tongue across her bottom lip and seek entrance to her mouth.

He wasn't sure if he should've felt confused, surprised, relieved or happy that she granted him access, parting her lips and her tongue moving to meet his. Her hands moved into his hair and she tugged on the strands, pulling a groan from him and he stepped closer to her, caging her in-between him and the wall. He ignored the sounds of approaching footsteps and used his hands being buried in her hair as leverage to tilt her head back a little more.

"Excuse me," a voice spoke from nearby.

Hermione pulled away from him and looked towards the one that disturbed them and he watched her face with a heated gaze, his breathing being heavy and his hands having fallen down by his sides and clenched into tight fists.

"Oh, Goodness," she said, looking embarrassed.

The officer cleared his throat. "Have you seen a man and woman pass? The man wearing a green t-shirt, brown leather jacket and blue jeans, the woman a black t-shirt, blue jacket and blue jeans."

"Can't say we have, we've been a little distracted," she said sheepishly. "I'm sorry we couldn't have been more helpful."

"Not a problem. You two have a nice evening," he replied, turning to walk away as he turned his attention to his radio.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief when he disappeared from view and she shrank back into the wall behind her.

"That was close," she said. "Let's get out of here before he comes back," she said, blindly reaching for his hand and pulling him behind her, leading him to the Impala.

Dean remained silent and his eyes never once left her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 20

**One week later...**

Dean was frustrated; he knew it and he couldn’t hide it. It’d been three and a half months since meeting Hermione and two and half of that he’d spent trying to show her what he truly thought and wanted. That he wanted a relationship with her and he’d been unsuccessful. He no longer knew what to do and it was stressing him out and Hermione had most certainly noticed as she’d been sending him strange looks for the last few days.

He thought he’d been doing a good job, but apparently not. He was sure even the damn cat knew, but Hermione was clueless. It was getting to the point he thought about just biting the bullet and telling her face to face, willing to accept her response no matter what it was.

The more time he spent with her, the deeper he felt for her and he was helpless to stop it. How could he not want her? How could he not care for her? How could she not be perfect for him? She was practically him in female form, just with a little less swearing, though he knew she had quite the vocabulary on her when she was pissed that someone or thing had tried to kill her, or when someone grabbed at her without her say so and he wasn’t too pleased in those situations either, if he were being honest.

And he couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss they’d shared, about the way she’d felt being pressed between him and the wall, about the way she’d buried her hands in his hair and tugged at the strands, about the way his own had gotten tangled in her soft, wild mane or about the way her lips had been soft and warm and they’d moulded against his almost perfectly.

Sighing, Dean stood from his bed in need of a drink. They’d recently dealt with the demon responsible for the murders they’d been investigating and, of course, Hermione had done well with her first official exorcism. They’d returned straight to their motel and had only been back an hour, meaning Dean knew Hermione would soon want feeding.

He slipped on his leather jacket, grabbed his car keys from the table and opened the door, nearly ploughing straight into Hermione. She had an annoyed look on her face and he knew what was coming next.

“Shower broken again?”

“Not quite,” she replied, a towel slung over her arm and Crookshanks waltzing through the open door and into the room as if he owned the place. “The temperature doesn’t seem to want to go past lukewarm and the water pressure’s rubbish, all that I could live with. What I can’t live with is the big arse hole in the wall, I can see straight through to next door’s bathroom. I saw the guy that’s in there earlier on and he gives me the creeps,” she shivered. “You mind?”

“Nope, I’m going to get dinner anyway, what do you want?”

“Anything, I’m not bothered, but I want dessert.”

“I’ll order from the nearby diner then, chocolate cake?”

“And ice-cream,” she nodded. “I’ll see you when you get back,” she said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her as he headed to the Impala.

He hadn’t been gone long and by the time he returned to the motel, he was sure Hermione would’ve been done with her shower and complaining about her hunger. After unlocking the door and stepping into his room, he was surprised to hear the shower running, but more importantly, the bathroom door was wide open.

Putting the bags down onto the table and unable to stop himself, he moved across the room and to the bathroom, the heat of the steam hitting him instantly and a strong scent of apples invading his nose. He slowly peeked his head around the door and his jaw fell slack, his heartbeat picked up and his stomach twisted.

This particular motel had a shower enclosure rather than a shower bath and therefore he could see the shape of Hermione’s figure through the steamed-up glass. While the majority of her frame was covered by the glass, he could see her feet and calves, as well as her head down to her shoulders.

He knew he should’ve backed out of the room and closed the door behind him to give her some privacy, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He felt drawn to her and like a moth to a flame, he went.

Stepping into the room completely, he noted that Hermione had her back to him and her wet hair was plastered down her back. She tilted her head to the side and water ran down her neck and over her shoulder and she brought a hand up to massage at it, a little sigh leaving her.

Dean’s mouth went dry and he found himself taking a step closer. It was like he was no longer in control of his body or his mind; he just wanted to be closer to her.

“It took you long enough.”

Dean froze as he’d just been about to take another step forward and Hermione turned to look at him over her shoulder, not looking embarrassed, annoyed or even angry. In fact, she looked amused, like she’d been expecting it.

“Are you getting in or not?”

Dean wasn’t quite sure what was happening but he was never one to miss an opportunity when it presented itself, he just hoped it didn’t come back to bite him in the ass. With his gaze locked on hers and wondering just what she thinking, he brought his hands up to his clothing and slowly but confidently stripped until he was left in only his underwear.

Her eyes didn’t stray from his and upon not hearing her change her mind or say that she’d been messing with him, he took another step towards the shower. As he reached the shower he stepped out of his last item of clothing before opening the door and stepping into the small shower with her.

Still, her eyes remained on his, not wavering despite him getting the feeling that she wanted to see _all_ of him, and he did the same. She took a step back, allowing him to close the door behind him, trapping them in the small shower together and he took a step forward, the spray of the hot water covering him.

He didn’t speak, not knowing what to say and despite the tense atmosphere, something about it just felt right.

“You look confused,” she spoke after several moments of silence and them just staring at each other.

“I am,” he admitted, a slight frown pulling at his face. He wasn’t sure how to feel when her mouth twitched into a smirk.

“You’re a difficult man to understand,” she commented. “But I had you pegged as soon as you walked into my shop. I know a non-committer when I see one.” He opened his mouth to defend himself but she didn’t allow him the chance to. “But I also know that you wanting to sleep with me changed as you spent more time around me, especially when I said we were friends. It’s evident that you’re not used to doing all the chasing, and so I thought I’d change that.”

Feeling confused and surprised, he just blinked, unable to think of a response.

“I knew exactly what you were doing; I wasn’t blind to how you grew tense when a guy approached me, how you were angry when someone tried to feel me up, or how you flirted with me constantly. I deliberately ignored all of that because I wanted you to have to work for it. But when two months passed and you seemed to be struggling with ways to get my attention I thought I’d help you out and drop a few little hints.”

“Meaning?” He muttered, his eyes still locked with hers.

“Do you honestly believe the showers in my rooms were broken? Or that I had noisy neighbours? Or that my bed was broken? Or even that time I had a leaky roof? How about my door not locking properly? Though I admit, the first time my shower _was_ broken and my room was awful.”

“I’m not following,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “The showers were never broken, if I had noisy neighbours I could’ve easily cast a Silencing Charm, if my bed was broken I could’ve repaired it with magic, and the door, I could’ve locked it with a spell. They were excuses, all of which I’d hope you’d pick up on and it would give you a little nudge. I purposely left out my spell books for you; I’d thought your curiosity would’ve gotten the better of you and you’d find that there were spells to easily fix my _problems_ , yet I hadn’t used them and you’d wonder why.”

“So you lied?” He said slowly.

“Hmm,” she hummed, a smile tugging at her mouth. “I lied. Do you honestly think I couldn’t have gotten us out of that house last week without the police knowing? You’re forgetting I can teleport.”

“You’d planned on kissing me,” he muttered in realisation.

She smirked at him. “Just another nudge,” she said. “And yet another week went by and you were still holding back and walking around clueless. I got bored of waiting, hence us being here now.”

Dean took a deep breath and breathed out slowly.

“Damn it, Witch!” He cursed before he surged forward, taking Hermione’s head in his hands and he kissed her.

Her laughter was muffled by his mouth and it soon stopped when he nipped at her lip, his tongue darting out to soothe the sting. Her arms moved to hook around his neck and she stood up on her tiptoes, bringing herself closer to him. His own hands dropped down and snaked around her back, pulling her flush against and he backed her up until she hit the wall behind her, a little noise of surprise falling from her lips. Hearing the sound Dean sought entrance past her lips and Hermione opened for him, her tongue moving to greet his.

Hermione’s hands snaked into his hair, tugging on the strands and her nails scratching against his scalp, pulling a groan of approval from him. He shifted his hands lower, giving her arse a squeeze before hiking her up off the ground, pressing her against the wall and her legs wrapped around him.

The need for oxygen forced him to pull back from her no matter how much he didn’t want to and he buried his face against her neck, bestowing her skin with little nips and kisses that had her sighing and tilting her head to give him better access.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered against her skin.

She let out a breathless laugh. “I don’t think so; I’m the only thing that’s keeping you alive. I honestly don’t know how you survived before we met.”

“Barely,” he admitted.

His hands wandered, tracing over her hips and sides and feeling several raised scars beneath his fingers before his hands brushed the sides of her breasts and he felt her hand tighten in his hair. Amused by her response, he cupped her breasts in his hands, massaging and kneading them, pulling a sigh from her.

“I hope you don’t have any plans of teasing and drawing this out.”

“Why’s that?” He asked, feeling a smirk pull at his mouth and in response to feeling it against her throat as he nipped and sucked at her skin lazily, she tugged on his hair.

“Admittedly, it’s been a while and if this isn’t over soon, I might accidentally set something on fire. It’s happened before.”

Well, that was interesting, he thought.

“Just how long are we talking?”

“Eight months, maybe a little longer,” she replied.

It’d been a while for him, too, about a month before meeting her which would bring it up to about four and half months. That really was a while for him, and he thought she was onto something. He wasn’t sure he’d been able to draw it out anyway. He’d been thinking about nothing but her for months and it was finally happening.

“Fine, but once we’ve recovered, you’re not going to know what’s hit you,” he muttered.

“Challenge accepted,” she breathed out and her breath hitched, throwing her head back against the wall when his fingers moved to toy with her nipples and his mouth moved to tugging at her earlobe.

“You sure?” He spoke against her ear.

“Two can play that game, just remember that.”

“I look forward to it,” he replied, before pulling back from her and taking her mouth in a consuming kiss.

A groan sounded from him when her hand slipped from his hair and her fingers lightly trailed down his chest, tickling his nipples as she skimmed over them and she didn’t stop until her hand curled around his length. He wondered if she were able to read his mind as she seemed to be doing everything he wanted, applying the right amount of pressure, using the right speed as she pumped her hand over him, her nails being drawn over him gently and teasingly.

He was in danger of showing himself up and he hadn’t been in such a way since he was a teenager. She made him feel nervous, but confident. Strong but vulnerable. Smart but stupid. She had a power over him, something he’d never experienced with another woman. He wasn’t quite sure what it was but he knew that all she needed do was snap her fingers and he’d come running. He knew he’d gladly sacrifice himself to ensure her safety. He knew that along as he had her friendship and her trust, he’d been a happy man.

Needing to turn the tables before he embarrassed himself, he buried a hand in-between them, feeling an alarmingly large scar on his way down to her centre, but not bringing note to the fact. He might’ve been curious but this wasn’t the time or place to question her about it.

She gave a breathless moan and her head flew back against the wall when he ran his fingers through her slick folds and without warning plunged two fingers straight into her. He’d swear he’d never heard a more interesting sound, it rang in his ears and his length twitched in her hand.

His eyes were glued to her face, watching as she breathed heavily, as her teeth sunk into her bottom lip and her cheeks flushed pink. He quite liked the colour on her. He struggled to remain in control when she timed the pumping of her hand to match with his own and the pressure she applied was a little tighter. The hand still gripping at his hair tugged and she let out a moan when he changed the angle of his fingers entering her. She must’ve been really sensitive as he soon felt her walls starting to pulse around his fingers and he buried his head in her neck, peppering her skin with nips, licks and kisses and moving down to her collar bones.

As he ducked his head lower he caught sight of the thick scar that almost seemed to cut her abdomen in half and though he felt anger that someone had dared to cause her such harm, he was able to push it aside and focus on her instead. His mouth closed around a nipple and as he nipped, licked and sucked, her little whimpers and sighs grew louder, her hips rocked against his hand more insistently and her grip on his length tightened, her movements stopping and starting every few seconds as she tried to remain in control.

He didn’t want that, he wanted her to lose control.

His thumb found her little bundle of nerves and as he applied pressure to it, Hermione broke. Her eyes screwed shut, her legs tightened around his waist and she tugged at his hair. A keening whine tore from the back of her throat as her walls clamped around him and he guided her through the wave of pleasure.

She slumped back into the wall, breathing heavily with her eyes still closed and her mouth pulling into a smile before her teeth sunk into her lower lip. Her hand restarted the pumps over his length and she opened her eyes, lifting her head and locking gazes with him. He was unsure of what she saw on his face but her own eyes seemed to darken in response and she surged forward, claiming his mouth as though she owned it and it belonged to her.

He quite liked the idea of belonging to her.

Groaning when her hand pumped faster and she slid her tongue against his, his hands moved from in-between them and he gripped at her hips. Dean was positive she was able to read his mind, as the moment he thought he just had to be inside her, she shifted her hips and guided him to her centre.

As she positioned him at her entrance, both of her hands moved to his shoulders and gripped tightly and with their gazes locked, he entered her with a single, sharp thrust. A gasp sounded from her and he groaned, burying his head against her neck as she gripped him tightly, surrounding him with warmth and already feeling her walls pulsing around him. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer, especially if she kept deliberately clenching herself around him like she was doing just to get his attention.

Shifting slightly to better support her, he took her mouth in a consuming kiss and muffled the sounds of her moans and whimpers as he thrust his hips, pulling back and filling her again and again.

He knew when she was on the edge and ready to go flying over it; her grip on his shoulders tightened, her nails dug into his skin and she moved her hips against his. She pulled back from him and buried her face in his neck, him noting that she’d flushed pink and she attacked his neck and jaw with little licks and nips. Her walls clamping around him was the final give away and knowing this and knowing he couldn’t hold himself back for much longer, he changed the angle of his hips and soon found her little sweet spot. She clamped around him tightly and he groaned when her teeth sunk into his shoulder, her cries being muffled. The feel of her clenching around him was too much to bear and he stopped holding back.

His movements grew erratic and even when she slumped against him, she still moved her hips with his to bring him to completion. His grip on her hips tightened and he pressed his forehead against her shoulder, breathing heavily as he slowed to a stop. They fell into silence, the only sound being that of their breathing and the shower still running.

“We’re taking a few days off and we’re not leaving this room,” he found himself muttering and Hermione’s laughter filled the shower.

~000~000~000~

Dean laid in bed, one hand tucked behind his head and the other buried in Hermione’s hair, fiddling with her wild curls. It had long since dried and it looked wilder than usual given he’d pounced on her as soon as he felt he was able to and he’d been unable to keep his hands out of it since.

He’d dragged them out of the shower and Hermione had dried them both off with a little magic, before she re-heated their food and they ate their dinner, having worked up quite the appetite. They’d watched a bit of TV but he’d soon distracted her, pulling her to him and stripping her of the towel she’d wrapped herself in and he’d taken a good portion of time teasing her, so much so he was expecting a bruise to appear from when she’d punched him in the arm in frustration.

Now he lay with the sheets covering his waist and Hermione laid beside him, her hands on his stomach and cushioning her chin as she stared up at him. He didn’t know where Crookshanks had gone but he got the feeling the clever cat had made himself scarce to give them some privacy, and he wasn’t worried as he knew the cat could take care of himself.

“Why’d you change your mind?” He asked.

“About?” She questioned, raising an eyebrow at him and he looked down at her, getting caught in her gaze.

“Me,” he clarified.

She shrugged her shoulders. “It’d been a while and I was feeling a little stressed. My magic can start acting up when that happens which is why I set things on fire by accident. I knew that I had to do something about it before I actually hurt someone and giving myself a helping hand wasn’t enough.”

He’d be lying if he said thoughts of Hermione pleasuring herself didn’t cross his mind.

“And I trust you with my life, so I knew I could trust you with my body,” she shrugged her shoulders. “I knew what to expect from you.”

“Maybe in the past, but not this time; you’re different.”

She frowned in confusion and tilted her head to the side slightly. “I don’t understand.”

“Do you really think I’d go to so much effort because I wanted a one night stand with you? I’ll admit I was attracted to you the moment I laid eyes on you, but things changed. Not only did I learn of your views on them, but the longer we were together, the more I realised I couldn’t do that to you.”

“Wait, are you saying that you want to...”

“Have a relationship with you? Yeah, I am.”

“What? Like friends with benefits?” She questioned.

“No, a proper relationship.”

“With labels? Like boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Exactly,”

“Exclusively?”

“Exclusively,” he confirmed.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” she confessed and he snorted at her.

“I care about you, Hermione. I don’t want you to get hurt and my life has been a lot easier, a lot brighter since meeting you. You said you needed more from a partner than just sex, and I hate the thought of you being with another man. I want to be what you need me to be. I want people to know that we’re together.”

She blinked slowly and he’d worried that he’d said too much, but then her eyes lit up and a smile pulled at her face.

“You do?”

“I do,” he nodded.

Laughter bubbled out of him when Hermione moved until she was straddling him and she was attacking his face with kisses before she settled back down beside him.

“You’re going to have to be patient with me.”

“Why?” She asked.

“You said yourself, I’m a non-committer,” he said, using her words. “I’ve never actually had a girlfriend or a relationship, it’s going to take time for me to adjust and learn how to be in a relationship.”

“Well, I’ve had a few and the majority of them ended badly,” she shrugged her shoulders. “But there isn’t much difference with how we were before. All we need to do is communicate with each other, be honest and look after each other. Everything we’ve already been doing, only now we’re sleeping together.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. I don’t have any expectations of you, Dean. I just want you to be your usual, pain in the arse self. I don’t want you to change or forget who you are because I’ll never forgive myself if you do. And if you ever feel like you need some space, or things aren’t working between us or you think there’s a problem that needs addressing, you have to talk to me about it. I don’t want you feeling as though you have to hide it from me because you think it might upset me. I won’t be happy if you’re not happy.”

“It goes both ways,” he replied.

She snorted at him. “Oh, believe me, if I’m not happy with you you’ll know about it. And you probably shouldn’t wind me up now.”

“Why’s that?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I now control your sex life.”

Well, she had a point, he thought amused.

“So, what’s this?” She asked, lifting her hand and tapping a finger against his chest, just below where his amulet sat.

He brought his hand down and picked it up, raising it to his eye level before dropping it again.

“Sammy gave me it for Christmas when we were kids, I haven’t taken it off since,” he shrugged. “What are you smiling at?” He asked, noticing the smile she wore on her face.

“You’re a big softy, aren’t you?”

“No,” he denied instantly.

She laughed at him. “Liar liar pants on fire,” she sang.

“Joke’s on you, I’m not wearing pants,” he replied.

She burst out laughing, her head falling forward to press against his chest and with her laughter being so infectious and joyous, he found himself laughing, too.

“Nicely played, Winchester,” she spoke after her laughter calmed to chuckles. “But you’re a big softy and I know it.”

“Don’t be telling anyone.”

“Because it would be such a travesty for the world to know how sweet you actually are,” she said.

“I’m not sweet,” he denied.

She snorted. “Like honey,”

He scowled and she giggled, the sound softening his expression. He reached up and brushed her hair back from her face before his own hand moved to hold the pendant that hung around her neck, a simple silver chain that sat a strange silver carving, he wasn’t sure what it was, to be honest.

“And yours?” He questioned.

“Harry gave me it for my eighteenth birthday. It was all the more special because at the time we’d been on the run during the war and everything was going to hell, people were being murdered and captured every day and we were losing hope, but on my birthday we forgot about everything and although we were hidden away in a tent in the middle of nowhere, it felt like we were back at Hogwarts. I haven’t taken it off since.”

“What is it?” He asked, squinting his eyes to better see.

“An otter,”

“Why an otter?”

“It’s my spirit animal, everyone has one but only a few are able to conjure it up before them. It’s one of the most difficult and one of the purest forms of magic in existence and as such, most don’t attempt it, those that do aren’t successful and only a small percentage are actually capable of doing so.”

“And you’re one of them,” he said knowingly.

“Yes, I am, as is Harry and Ron. It’s not just a spirit animal to us, to witches and wizards. It’s a part of our soul; it’s our magic coming to life. It’s protection and strength and companionship. It’s hope and light. They’re used to fight off and defend against dark, soul-devouring creatures known as Dementors and they used to guard our prisons in Britain, before they were dismissed after Voldemort recruited them during the war. We use them to send important and coded messages to others as they can’t be intercepted or destroyed, and we use them for companionship.”

“Can I see?” He asked.

She smiled at him and nodded, before reaching for her wand on the bedside table.

“ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” she muttered.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but it certainly wasn’t a little otter to burst from the tip of her wand in a cloud of blue-silver smoke, nor was he expecting it to dart about the room as if it were swimming in water. It came down to Hermione, hovering in front of her face and he blinked when she reached out and petted its head, the little otter squirming beneath her hand before rolling on to its back and offering its stomach, much like Crookshanks often did.

“Wow,” was all he could manage and Hermione laughed at him.

“You can touch her, she won’t hurt you,” she told him.

Slowly he raised his hand and the otter soon stood to attention, sniffing at his hand as if it were real, before rolling onto its back and offering its stomach. Snorting, Dean reached for it and as soon as he touched it he was surprised to see that it _felt_ real, like an actual real-life otter. But there was something about it, something that made him feel warm and calm and cared for.

“So this is your magic?”

“And soul in corporeal form, essentially yes,” she answered.

“It’s awesome,” he said and she smiled widely. “Why is it so difficult to do?”

“This is one of the purest forms of magic to exist and dark magical practitioners are unable to even attempt this form of magic. If they do they’ll be devoured by maggots. It can only be cast by someone that is magically powerful enough to do so, and by someone that can conjure up true feelings of happiness and joy. That’s what powers it. It took me a few months to cast my first corporeal Patronus, before that I just kept getting wisps of smoke.”

“And do you understand each other?”

“Well she is technically part of me, so yes, we understand each other.”

“How do you send messages? What’s the limitation?”

“There isn’t one, Harry and I use these to check up on each other all the time despite living in different continents. As for how I do it...”

She sat up, pulling the blanket with her to cover her chest and the little otter squirmed out from beneath his hand and moved over to Hermione. She leaned forward and whispered something and the little otter disappeared, before reappearing in front of him and it opened its mouth.

“Are you hungry? I’m hungry,”

He let out a sound of disbelief and a little laugh due to both the words that were spoken, and the fact it was Hermione’s voice that had said them.

“That’s a bit weird,” he shook his head, and the little otter disappeared for good. “No, I’m not hungry.”

“I am,” she frowned before she summoned the long since melted ice-cream over to her and with a muttered spell, the ice-cream had frozen over once more and she happily ate it. “So, since we’re mentioning family, your brother, am I ever going to meet him?”

Dean sighed and shifted until both arms were behind his head and he turned to watch her as she ate her ice-cream.

“I don’t know,” he replied.

“Are you ashamed of me?”

“What, no, of course not. Why would I be ashamed of you?”

She shrugged. “I’m a witch,”

“A witch is what you are, not who you are. You’re a good person; you’re beautiful inside and out.” He blinked in surprise when her cheeks tinted pink and her eyes darted down to her ice-cream shyly. “Sammy’s smart, he’s very much like you and he’s very logical. I’m not sure how he would react to finding out about your magic, but I’m sure it would be a lot better than I did and Bobby, too. My dad was never able to bully the hatred of the supernatural into him the way he did me. He’d probably spend hours quizzing you about your magic and people, wanting to know more.”

“So then why aren’t you sure if we’ll meet?”

“I haven’t seen him in over three years and I haven’t spoken to him in half that. He wanted no part of the hunting lifestyle and my dad couldn’t and wouldn’t understand that. He told Sammy that if he walked away, he wasn’t welcome back. And he did, he walked away without saying goodbye and that’s the last time I saw him.”

“Bobby’s right, you’re dad _is_ an arsehole.”

“You haven’t even met him.”

“Doesn’t matter, what you’ve just told me and after everything I’ve learned from Bobby, I don’t like him.”

“I don’t particularly like him either, to be honest with you,” he said.

“Well, you don’t have to like someone to love them. Take Ronald for instance, he’s always been awful to me and after we broke up he was even worse. I don’t like the way he behaves towards me, but that doesn’t stop me from loving him like he’s my family.”

“You can’t pick your family,” Dean nodded in understanding.

“That’s not true. You can’t choose who you’re _related_ to, but you can choose who you surround yourself with and you can consider them to be your family if you should wish it. The Weasleys, Harry, Bobby; they’re my family despite us not being related. And as for your brother, maybe you should reach out to him. I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.”

“I don’t know, Hermione. If he wanted to talk to me, he would’ve called, but he hasn’t.”

“Maybe he thinks the same about you,” she offered. “Harry is my little brother in everything but blood, and I know that no matter what argument we may have had, he still loves me and I still love him. Just give him a call, Dean, you never know what might happen,” she said.

She put the half-eaten ice-cream carton and spoon on the bedside table and picked up her wand, pressing it against her stomach and muttering beneath her breath.

“What was that?” He asked, after seeing the slight shimmer the wand gave off.

“Contraception Charm,” she answered. “One hundred percent effective and it lasts about twelve hours. Unless you want to have a baby, that is.”

Dean didn’t need to look in a mirror to know his face paled at the thought and Hermione burst out laughing.

~000~000~000~

Dean woke the next morning to a sight he’d happily wake up to every day. The sun was peeking in through a gap in the curtains, Crookshanks had made a reappearance and was curled up on the end of the bed, and Hermione was stood by the table wearing his t-shirt from the previous day and flipping pancakes over an open flame.

He sat up and leaned back against the headboard, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles and putting his hands behind his head, a smile tugging at his mouth as he watched Hermione singing to herself and shaking her arse as she piled the pancakes onto a plate, covered them in chocolate sauce and added a few slices of bananas and strawberries.

“You’re in a good mood,”

She visibly startled and almost dropped the pancakes to the ground and her hand came up to her chest as she breathed heavily. Shaking her head, she turned to look at him, a smile pulling at her face.

“Good morning and I’ll have you know I’m always in a good mood.”

He knew it to be true, well, unless someone pissed her off, then she was terrifying.

“I made your favourite,” she said happily, reaching over to extinguish the open flame before something had chance to catch fire.

He beckoned her over to him and a smirk pulled at her mouth as she crossed the room and over to the bed, letting Crookshanks out the door for his morning bathroom break beforehand. Dean reached out and snagged her around the waist, pulling her until she was straddling him and his hands settled on her hips. Without needing to be told, he opened his mouth when Hermione cut off a bit of pancake with the side of her fork and then she fed it to him.

“So, how it is?” She asked.

“Perfect,” he answered and she beamed at him, all too happy to feed him more when he opened his mouth again.

“You know, I have the ingredients for a pie.”

“Let’s get married,” he said.

She snorted at him. “Vegas?”

“Obviously,” he replied.

“Elvis?”

“Who else?”

She chuckled and fed him until it was all gone and the moment she put the plate off to the side, Dean flipped her onto her back and pinned her beneath him. She raised an eyebrow and looked amused when he ducked his head, stealing a kiss.

“I did say we’re not leaving this room. We haven’t had a break since meeting and I haven’t been contacted about a case or heard of any, so we have some free time and I know exactly how to use it.”

“Is that so?”

“Hmm,” he hummed, ducking his head and burying his face against her neck, nipping, kissing and licking at her skin. She sighed and her hands came up to twine through his hair, keeping him to her.

A cell phone ringing drew her attention.

“Leave it,” he muttered.

“I can’t, there’s only a handful of people that have my number. If I don’t answer they’ll worry.” A hand moved from his hair and she reached for it on the bedside table. “It’s Bobby,” she informed him.

He thought about stopping but soon decided against it, thinking it would be much more fun for her to have to stay calm while he did his best to distract her.

“Hi, Bubba,” Hermione said brightly.

He would never get used to hearing Bobby being called that.

“I’m fine, I’ve just been very busy lately... I know I promised I’d visit... Yes, I know... I’m fine, honestly. In fact, I’ve never been better,” she said.

He heard her breath hitch when he found her weak spot behind her ear and he grinned, turning his attention to it and receiving a hair tugging from Hermione.

“I’ve still been sending you lasagnas and casseroles... Bobby, I can’t... Don’t guilt-trip me....”

Dean moved lower, pulling _his_ t-shirt up until her stomach was revealed and he glowered at the scar that met his sight. He could get angry but there was nothing he could do about it, she’d told him the one that had done it was dead. Putting that behind him, his lips and tongue blazed a trail down her abdomen until he reached the apex of her thighs.

Hermione sent him a glare of warning and tugged at his hair, so hard he thought she might’ve actually pulled out a clump of it, but that didn’t stop him. He used his hands to spread her legs wider and pin them to the bed, before smirking at her and ducking down, his mouth descending on her centre.

Her hand flew to her mouth to cover the moan that slipped from her lips and she pulled the cell phone away from her in an attempt to prevent Bobby from hearing what was happening. She glared at him once more before taking a deep breath and bringing the cell phone back to her ear.

“I have to go, I’ll visit next week, I promise. Bye,” she said, hanging up instantly and dropping the cell phone onto the bed. “I’m going to kill you,” she threatened, but he couldn’t take it seriously as she’d said it through a gasp and her hands twisted into the sheets beneath her.

He hummed in response, knowing the vibrations would only work her up further and in no time at all, he was guiding her through her orgasm. She melted into the mattress and he crawled back up her, bracing himself on his elbows as he looked down at her smugly.

“I’m going to kill you,” she said, but he still couldn’t take her seriously, not with her flushed face and her glassy eyes.

“No, you’re not,” he replied.

When his cell phone rang, he climbed off her and reached for it.

“Bobby,” he said, though he thought it a coincidence that both he and Hermione were receiving calls from him within half an hour of each other, especially when Bobby didn’t know that he and Hermione were hunting together. He didn’t even know that she was hunting full stop. A smirk pulled at Hermione’s mouth and he knew she planned on payback, so he braced himself.

“What’s up, Bobby?” He said, eyeing Hermione heatedly when she crawled over to him and her mouth latched onto his neck, her teeth nipping and nibbling at his neck and jaw and her tongue lapping and licking at his skin. He took a deep breath and clenched his hands into fists.

“Where are you?” Bobby asked.

“Dickinson, North Carolina, why?”

“So you can get here today,” he muttered to himself. “I need to talk to you.”

“About?” He questioned, his body tensing when Hermione’s mouth moved lower, peppering his chest with licks and kisses.

“In person, not over the phone,” Bobby said.

“Why can’t you tell me now?” He asked, only just managing to stifle a groan when Hermione’s mouth closed around his nipple and she looked up at him under her eyelashes. She was going to be the death of him, he was sure of it.

“Just get here as soon as you can,” Bobby said gruffly.

“Alright, see you later,” he said, ending the call and dropping the device onto the bed.

Hermione pulled back from him and smirked. “Not nice, is it?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, it seems our little weekend of being holed up here has been interrupted.”

“What a fucking surprise,” Dean muttered, glaring down at his cell phone and she laughed at him. “You do realise he’s going to find out about us, right?”

“I know,” she shrugged. “But he won’t hurt me, he loves me too much.”

She stood from the bed and made for the bathroom and he reached out, snagged her wrist and pulled her back to him, a laugh leaving her.

“I believe you were in the middle of something,” he muttered.

“Was I?” She said innocently.

“Yes,”

“You must be mistaken,”

“I don’t think I am,” he said, reaching up to push her hair back from her face. “With traffic and pit stops it’s going to take a little under ten hours to get to Bobby’s, I can be very annoying.”

“As can I,” she replied with a smirk, but she did latch her mouth back onto his neck, slowly moving lower down his chest and to his stomach.

Dean let out a sigh and fell onto his back, a groan falling from his mouth when Hermione took him in her hand and her mouth surrounded him. He cursed Bobby to hell and back for disrupting his weekend plans with his official girlfriend of twelve hours.

~000~000~000~

The drive to Bobby’s didn’t feel as long as it actually was, but that was always the case when he had Hermione with him, her keeping him entertained with her singing along to the radio, with her dancing about in her seat and her amusing stories of her past.

It also helped that Hermione did have a driving license and so they would swap every couple of hours to give the other a break, though he did almost shit himself when he’d woken up from a nap to find Hermione being on the wrong side of the road, having forgotten that in America they drove on the right, not the left. He hadn’t dared to fall back asleep after that.

He was grateful when they pulled up onto Bobby’s salvage yard as he was in need of stretching his legs and he was dying for a beer. He stepped out of the car and moved to greet Bobby as he stepped out of the house.

“What’s up, Bobby?” He greeted, being pulled into a quick barely-a-hug-hug and pulling back.

Bobby opened his mouth to respond when his eyes widened and they locked on a spot over his shoulder. Dean didn’t need to look to know he’d spotted Hermione climbing out of the car. Bobby’s eyes darted between him and Hermione, before landing on him and a look of anger settled on his face. Dean blinked in surprise, hell, Hermione hadn’t been kidding. He really was protective of her.

“What the hell is going on?” He asked gruffly.

Dean scratched at his head nervously and took a step back from Bobby so he had more room to duck should Bobby decide to punch him.

“Well, you see, Hermione’s kind of my hunting partner,” he said sheepishly.

“What!” Bobby hissed. “Since when?”

“Since we met,” Dean said, giving a weak smile. “About three and a half months now.”

“I’m going to...” Bobby never had the chance to finish his threat as Hermione distracted him and Dean sighed in relief.

“Bubba!” Hermione cried happily, darting across the yard and straight over to Bobby, looking very much like a young child running to their father after not seeing them for a while.

Dean blinked in surprise and disbelief when Bobby’s expression softened and Hermione ploughed straight into him, almost knocking them both to the ground. Dean felt like he needed to sit down when Bobby let out a chuckle and wrapped his arms around Hermione in a _very_ affectionate hug. Bobby didn’t do affection! Not in that way at least.

“I missed you,” Hermione spoke.

Dean’s head was spinning when he heard the sniffle that came from her and the way Bobby’s voice softened as he replied.

“Not as much as I missed you, Missy.”

“I think I need to sit down,” Dean muttered.

Hermione pulled back from Bobby and stepped closer to him, lifting her hand and pressing the back of it to his forehead as a mother would do for their child.

“You don’t feel warm,” she mused.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, Missy,” Bobby said, looking at her disapprovingly with his arms crossed and she gave him a sheepish smile.

“Well, after I saved Dean’s arse and patched him up, I helped him to track down the last two crocottas, and then Dean kind of asked me to hunt with and I kind of agreed to.”

Bobby sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s dangerous, Missy.”

“Danger should be my middle name,” she shrugged.

“I know,” he grumbled and his eyes darted between them and Dean wasn’t blind to the suspicious looks he sent them, obviously seeing how they were comfortable in each other’s presence and that Hermione was all but tucked into his side.

“You’re sleeping together, aren’t you?”

Hermione blushed bright red but didn’t deny it and Dean reached out and took her hand in his, the gesture not going unnoticed by Bobby which had been his intention.

“It’s more than that, she’s my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend,” Bobby repeated slowly and looking at him as if he had two heads.

“Girlfriend,” he confirmed.

“And he’s my boyfriend,” Hermione spoke. Bobby’s eyes darted between them.

“We’re exclusive,” Dean shrugged, trying not to make a big deal out of it, despite him knowing Bobby was more than surprised with his revelation.

“Since when?”

“Err... well,” Dean started, but Hermione cut it him off.

“Not long, I made him work for it.”

“Good girl,” Bobby smirked, looking at her proudly and she grinned at him.

“After two months of him running around like a headless chicken, I started dropping hints and even then he still hadn’t realised I was trying to give him a little nudge.” Bobby snorted, shaking his head. “So, now that I’m here, how about you let me work my magic on your spare bedroom, figuratively and literally?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” he replied stubbornly, and Dean knew otherwise. You could barely open the door to get in, let alone get to the bed. 

“You’re a hoarder, you don’t need half of the stuff in there and it’s about time we got rid of it.”

“I don’t want to,” he replied, crossing his arms childishly and Dean blinked at seeing this side of the grumpy hunter.

“You have to, I can charm your storage room bigger so you have more space, and you’re not going to stop me,” she said, pulling her wand from her sleeve and storming over to the house, leaving them behind.

“You can’t win an argument with her,” Dean said.

“I know,” Bobby muttered before his eyes darted to the fat, ginger fur-ball that jumped from the car and slowly made his way towards them. “Hey, Fatty,”

Once more, Dean blinked. He knew that Crookshanks liked him, but that didn’t stop him from getting hissed at when he insulted the cat. Bobby only got a meow of indignation before the fat cat rubbed himself up against Bobby’s leg.

“He likes you?” Dean said, sounding surprised even to his own ears.

“Yeah, you?”

“I wake up every morning to him having somehow snuck into my room and sleeping on my legs.”

Bobby eyed Dean curiously, before nodding to himself. “He’s a good judge of character.”

“I know, he’s alerted us to a few shape-shifters, too, one of them we didn’t even know was in town.”

Bobby looked down at Crookshanks proudly.

“Don’t hurt her,” Bobby said suddenly. “And you better look after her, she’s special.”

“I know she is; she gave me a chance after all and I know I’m not good enough for her. I don’t plan on hurting her and I always do my best to keep her safe.”

“Has she been hurt?”

“Not really, just a few bumps and scrapes here and there,” he said, deliberately avoiding telling him about the time she’d been buried under the rubble from an explosion and breaking her leg. He really wasn’t in the mood to get punched in the face.

“And you?”

“Same,” he shrugged. “I’ve got to admit, her magic’s a lifesaver. So, what did you want to see me about?”

“Have you spoken with your dad lately?”

Dean frowned. “Not, not for a few weeks, why?”

“I saw him a few weeks ago and he was acting strange. I’ve been receiving calls from other hunters saying the same thing. I don’t know what he’s up to, but whatever it is can’t be good.”

“He hasn’t said anything to me,” Dean responded. “I’ll call him later and see what I can find out.”

“Good,” Bobby nodded and he turned to the house with Dean following at his side.

“What have you been telling Hermione about my dad?” Dean asked.

“What’s she said?”

“That you think he’s an asshole,” Dean answered.

Bobby snorted. “Then she’s being polite. I’ve used far worse words to describe him over the years and most of them in her presence; she gave you the censored version.” Dean felt himself frowning. “He might be my friend, but he’s an asshole. You and Sam should’ve been kept as far away from this as possible, you never should’ve been brought into this lifestyle. Your father and I have had far too many disagreements about the way he was raising you and most of them ended with a few blows to the face and weapons being drawn. He’s my friend and he’s your dad, but he’s an asshole, especially after the way he treated Sam.”

It was fair to say Dean was surprised by Bobby’s words, never having known he felt that way towards his father.

“And don’t think you’re staying with Missy.”

“Seriously?” Dean spluttered. “We’re fully grown adults.”

“You’re not laying a finger on her when you’re under my roof,” Bobby said, daring him to argue with him.

Dean gathered his wits. Hell, was this what it was like dealing with an overprotective father? He never thought he’d see such behaviour from Bobby, or that he’d ever have to face such a thing.

“And if she wants me to?”

“You tell her no.”

“And what if she wants me with her?”

“I’ll shoot you if you agree.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Sleeping on the couch it is,” he said.

“Hey, Bubba!” Hermione’s voice called from the floor above, apparently having heard them entering the house. “Why on earth do you have an entire box of used batteries! And what’s the deal with the scary arse paintings!”

“I better get up there before she throws all my stuff out,” he grumbled, heading for the stairs.

“Sacrilege! How dare you keep books in such a filthy environment! And they’ve got dog eared pages, I should hex you just for that!”

Laughter bubbled from Dean and it only grew louder when he heard the argument that started between the little witch and the grumpy hunter. Shaking his head, Dean made his way to the kitchen and pulled a beer from the fridge and upon noticing Crookshanks sat on the kitchen table, he grabbed the milk and poured some into a bowl.

Taking a seat at the table, both he and Crookshanks quietly drank their respective beverages, listening to the threats that were being thrown back and forth directly above him. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 18

**One month later...**

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Dean said softly, genuinely feeling disgusted with himself.

"For what?" She asked, turning on her stool to better face him.

His eyes darted off towards the exit were a tipsy blonde was being escorted out by an equally tipsy man.

"Dean, it's alright," she said.

"But it shouldn't be," he protested. "I don't deserve your forgiveness or your understanding."

"Yes, you do and you have it. You did nothing wrong, okay? You're a flirt, it's who you are and it's part of your charm. I don't get jealous when I see you with other women because I know you care about me and I know I'm the one you fall asleep with every night. Did you have any intentions of cheating on me with that woman?"

"No, of course not," he said instantly.

"Did you touch her?"

"No,"

"Buy her a drink?"

"No,"

"So you just had a bit of a chat?" She clarified.

"Yeah,"

"And were you attracted to her?"

"No,"

"Why?"

"I have you," he answered.

She gave him a soft smile. "And that's why I'm not mad or upset with you. I would never dream of telling you what to do or how to behave, I knew from the very start it would be difficult for you to reign in that flirty, charming side of you, but I trust you not to hurt me. Besides, you being flirty comes in handy," she shrugged. "You're a good man, Dean, and you have no reason for needing to apologise."

"I'm trying, Hermione."

"I know you are, and I'm proud of you for doing so. You haven't done anything wrong and I don't want you to feel as though you did. Please, stop being so hard on yourself."

"You're too good for me," he muttered.

"No, I'm not," she denied. "Now, come here, I hate seeing you like this," she spoke.

She stood from her stool and stepped between his parted knees, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. He sighed and brought his arms up to hold her more closely to him and he buried his head in her neck, breathing in her scent of apples and caramel.

There was something about Hermione, something that always made him feel cared for and relaxed. There was something comforting about her constant presence, about her scent and touch.

In the month that had gone by since he and Hermione had gotten together, he could honestly say that in his twenty-six years of living, he'd never been happier. She'd been right, having a relationship with her hadn't been as difficult as he'd thought it would be; it was essentially just the same as before only they went to sleep in the same bed every night and Crookshanks no longer had to sneak into his room.

Dean loved waking up in the morning to Hermione being wrapped up in his arms, usually wearing one of his t-shirts as she claimed they were comfier than her own clothing, but he didn't mind in the least. He loved that every morning, the first thing he saw was her relaxed, sleeping face.

While their relationship hadn't changed much, he did notice a few changes in Hermione's behaviour. Now, she was more open with him, more willing to discuss traumatic events from her past. Now, she was more affectionate and he loved it when she'd just randomly hug him for no reason, or when she'd reach for his hand and absentmindedly fiddle with his fingers whilst they were watching a movie on TV.

Now, he noticed that when she fell asleep before he did, she seemed to seek him out and snuggle up to him, having no idea that she did so. He loved falling asleep with her comforting presence surrounding him and her warm, soft body wrapped up in his arms.

And the sex...It felt different; everything just seemed to be better. He didn't know if it was because he genuinely cared for Hermione, because emotions were involved when they'd never been before, or if it was because Hermione seemed to be able to read his mind as she was so in-tune with him, but everything was so much better, much more intense and sensitive and meaningful.

And Hermione loved to tease him and she made it a point to do so, especially at the most inappropriate times, too, though he suspected it was payback for what he'd done when Bobby had called. She knew exactly how to rile him up and she used that to her advantage, usually by whispering dirty things into his ear right before he entered a police station or crime scene, posing as a law enforcement officer or an FBI agent.

It felt good to have someone to care for him, even more so that it was a woman, a witch like Hermione. She was not only physically beautiful and he thought even more so with her scars, but she had a genuinely kind and beautiful soul. He didn't think there was a mean bone in her entire body, she was just too good.

He loved that he had someone to share his secrets with, knowing he could trust her. He loved that he had someone to help him deal with his past and the monsters he fought to protect others. He loved that he had someone to come home to, someone to care for and look after. He hated when he woke to her having a nightmare, and he'd realised that she had them more often than he'd previously thought, but he loved that he was the one taking care of her. That he was the one to calm her.

He understood why Bobby cared for her so much, and he understood why he'd threatened him within an inch of his life before they'd left the salvage yard. But Dean had no intentions of hurting Hermione, the thought of doing something to upset her or disappoint her made him feel sick. They may have only been together a month, but he honestly couldn't imagine his life without Hermione by his side.

"Can we take the weekend off?" Hermione asked him and she pulled back from him, but didn't remove her arms from around his neck and he didn't let get of her either.

"Have plans, do you?" He replied, his eyes lighting up and his mouth twitching into a smirk.

"Down, boy," she snorted at him. "When I was in the bathroom Harry sent me an emergency message. He's asked if I can watch James and Albus for the weekend. Gin's not well and with the pregnancy, she's more susceptible to illness. She's been put on bed rest and Harry's taken time away from work to look after her, but she needs peace and quiet. Her mother's not as young as she used to be so she can't have them, and the others all have their own kids to worry about, not to mention I haven't seen my Godchildren in four and a half months."

"And you want me to watch them with you?" He asked, unsure of how he should feel about that.

He felt uncomfortable around kids in general, not knowing how to interact with them, but then he supposed her nephews didn't seem that bad, especially as one of them had asked him to read to him all those months ago.

"No, I'll take care of them, I just want you to relax for a few days; you work too hard. Depending on the weather, I'll probably just take them swimming or to the zoo so they're not in the house all day. And seeing as I've been gone so long, I should probably check in on the book shop, too."

"When's he bringing them over?"

"In about an hour, the time difference is a pain in the arse so I'll have to give the kids something to help them sleep."

"How are we supposed to get to Colorado in an hour?"

"Teleport," she shrugged. "I can do it in two, maybe three jumps."

"I'm not going to like it, am I?" He asked.

"Probably not," she nodded. "The first time I did it I almost passed out, and it's even worse when you're side-along apparating, but after a few times, you get used to it. It just feels like you're being squeezed through a tube that's too small. As long as you stay calm and don't panic, you'll be fine."

"We should probably go then," Dean said, reaching into his pocket to pull out enough money to cover their tab and to leave a tip, before taking her hand in his and leading her out the bar.

Hermione made quick work of shrinking down the Impala and slipping it into her pocket, something he knew he'd never get used to seeing, before she wrapped her hand around his and pulled him into the back alleyway.

"Alright, I'll take us to the motel to pick up our things and Crookshanks, and then we'll head straight to my house. Close your eyes, hold your breath and bend your knees ready for the landing. Don't let go of my hand and stay calm," she instructed.

"Got it," he nodded.

~000~000~000~

Dean landed in a familiar-looking living room and he bowed his head, dizziness kicking in. He had to admit, no matter how awesome her being able to teleport seemed, it didn't feel it. The first time he'd almost thrown up, the second time he'd almost passed out, the third time he had to sit down, and now he felt dizzy, but even he could admit the symptoms lessened the more he teleported.

"You take a seat, I just need to turn the power back on, give this place a quick clean and sort the bedroom out for the kids, but I'll be back down soon."

Nodding, Dean took a seat on the couch and watched as Hermione pulled the curtains open, the sight of the soon to be setting sun coming into his view and she headed out the room, flicking her wand about the room as she did so, him noting that the dust from the surfaces disappeared and a clean smell filled the room.

He'd been sat on the couch for a few minutes when he found himself springing to his feet with his gun drawn and pointed, when the fireplace roared to life and a man stepped out carrying a sleeping toddler on his hip and holding the hand of a half-asleep little boy.

Hermione had explained to him about witches and wizards being able to travel through their fireplaces, but he wasn't sure he believed her, not until now at least. And recognising the two boys, he knew the man to be their father and Hermione's brother, Harry Potter.

Dean didn't think he looked all that scary given what he knew of him, in fact, he looked completely normal and non-threatening. His raven hair was messy, his green eyes hidden by round glasses, his skin pale and Dean could see that he was taller than Harry by several inches. The only abnormal thing about him was the faded lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

"Who are you?" He asked, eyeing him warily and his eyes fell down to his gun.

Dean cleared his throat and quickly stuffed his gun back into the waistband of his jeans, hiding it from view.

"Dean Winchester," he offered.

"Oh, you're Hermione's new boyfriend," he replied, his eyes narrowing. Dean realised that he was being scrutinized by the shorter wizard.

"That's me, you're her brother, right? Harry?"

"Yes," he said, standing taller.

"Don't even think about giving him _the warning_ ," Hermione's voice flittered to their ears and they both turned to face her.

"But, 'Mione..." her brother started.

"No, it's none of your business who I date and you can't scare him off, if Bobby didn't frighten him away, you won't."

He sighed and grumbled under his breath. "You have some explaining to do," he said.

"Let's get the boys to bed first," she said, and she reached down and picked up the older child, carrying him up the stairs with Harry following after her.

Taking a seat on the couch, Dean let out the breath he didn't know he was holding and a few minutes later they made a reappearance.

"But, 'Mione, it's dangerous," Harry said, them both stepping into the room.

"Is it? I had no idea," she said sarcastically.

Harry scowled at her. "You moved out here to get away from it all, you know what it did to you last time. I'm worried about you."

"I appreciate your concern, but really it's none of your business. It's my life and I decide how I want to live it. Dean's more than proven I can trust him and we make a good team, almost as good as you, me and Ronald. Before I met Dean my life was safe and peaceful, but I was bored, Harry. I missed the chase, I missed constantly being on the go and after our childhoods, it's all we know. I know you can't give up being an Auror, just like I couldn't give up being one either. And now, I'm doing exactly the same only we focus on the supernatural. I've learned a lot from Dean, I'm travelling the US and I'm happy."

Harry sighed and reached up to run his hand through his hair. "I don't want you getting hurt."

"So far my injuries have been kept to only a few bumps and scrapes and we've been hunting together for over four months now. Dean's very good at what he does."

"I know, I've seen his wrap sheet," Harry muttered.

Dean blinked. "What does that mean?" He asked, no longer pretending as though he hadn't been eavesdropping.

"You're known to us," Harry said to him. "Hunters that is, we keep tabs on you, we have to in order to ensure our people's safety."

"You searched the archives? That's abuse of your power, Potter," Hermione told him, not looking pleased.

"When you told me the name of your new boyfriend, I had to make sure you were safe, muggle or not."

She scowled and crossed her arms. "Dean would never and has never laid a finger on me."

"I'll kill him if he does," Harry said seriously and as if he wasn't even there.

"I'm not going to hurt her," Dean said, feeling angry that he even thought he'd ever raise a hand to Hermione. Just what kind of person did he think he was?

"Maybe not physically," he fired back.

Hermione sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Get out, Harry, before I hex your mouth shut. Ginny needs you, so I'll see you Monday."

"But..."

"Out now," she pointed to the fireplace. Harry scowled but did move to the leave, his gaze locking on Dean threateningly before he disappeared into the flames.

"Sorry about him," Hermione said, moving over to the fridge, pulling out two beers and pressing the tip of her wand to them both. She came to sit beside him on the couch and she handed him a beer, him realising she'd used her magic to cool them as she'd only just turned the power back on.

Dean shrugged. "He's your brother; he's going to be protective of you."

"He's a pain in the arse," she muttered. "But I actually think he likes you." Dean looked at her disbelievingly. "He only mentioned your death once _and_ he never tried to hex you. With my previous boyfriends, it was the first thing he did."

"That makes me feel better," he said and she smacked him in the arm.

"We should probably head to bed, I gave the kids something to help them sleep a little longer but they'll still have us up before seven, and I'm going to need all the sleep I can get."

Dean looked to the window pointedly. "It's barely sunset."

"I know, but I never said we should go to sleep right away."

His mouth pulled into a smirk. "I like your thinking, but what about the kids?"

"They're asleep," she shrugged, standing from the couch and moving to the staircase and he was quick on her heels.

~000~000~000~

"Aunt 'Mione, who's that?"

Dean looked to the older boy sat on a stool at the breakfast bar, noting that out of him and his brother, he looked most like his father with both the messy black hair and the bright green eyes, whilst the other kid had dark hair but brown eyes, his mother's he suspected.

Hermione smiled at him as he approached the kitchen, pouring him a cup of coffee and he came up beside her, taking it from her gratefully. It was best he drink it quickly so he didn't scare the children with his bad-not-yet-had-coffee temper.

"James, Albus, this is Dean. He's my boyfriend," Hermione explained, and he did his best not to shift uncomfortably at the way they both started at him.

"Like Mummy and Daddy?" The older child spoke.

"Yes, only we're not married."

"Why?"

"We haven't been together long," Hermione replied.

"But you love each other?"

Dean choked on his coffee and Hermione reached up to pat him on the back without even looking at him, as she said,

"We care for each other very much, James."

"Is he nice to you?" He asked.

Dean frowned and his eyes darted to Hermione, seeing the way her face softened and she leaned forward on the counter to be closer to his height. Why would a child ask such a question?

"Yes, James, he is very kind to me. You have nothing to worry about. Dean's a very good man, much like your daddy."

The young boy frowned and his eyes watched Dean cautiously before he slowly nodded.

"Okay, then I like him," he said.

Hermione snorted. "I thought you might, he's got a cool car."

"Really, can I see it?" He asked excitedly.

"And me?" The younger boy piped up.

"You'll have to ask him," Hermione said, looking up to Dean.

"Can we, please?"

Dean cleared his throat and put down his coffee mug. "Sure, after breakfast. Your Aunt tells me you like the zoo, how about we go for a visit?"

They both grinned at him widely. "We get to go in your car?" The older child asked.

"If you promise not to make a mess," Dean responded.

"We promise," they both said brightly, before James jumped down off his stool and Hermione helped down Albus and they both ran for the stairs, he presumed to get ready for the day.

"You didn't have to do that," Hermione said, picking up the children's plates and taking them to the sink to be washed. "I meant what I said about you taking some time for yourself whilst I watch the kids."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I'd rather spend my time with you and if that includes those kids, too, then so be it."

She turned around to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why?"

"I told you I wanted a relationship with you and I meant it. I know those kids are important to you, and if they're going to be here when I am, I might as well get to know them."

"You see us being long term?" She questioned, blinking in surprise.

He shrugged. "I want us to be," he admitted.

"You don't stop surprising me," she said, walking over to him and he pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. "How much experience do you have with children?"

"None, so I'm shitting myself."

She snorted. "First rule, don't swear in front of them, they repeat everything they hear. Second rule, don't take your eyes off them, especially in public places. Third rule, children can smell fear so hide it otherwise they'll run circles around you. You're the adult, not them."

"No swearing, keep watch and no fear, got it," he nodded as she pulled back from him. "The oldest..."

"James, Albus is the youngest," she offered.

"Right, James, why did he ask if I was nice to you?"

She winced and he had the feeling he wasn't going to like her answer.

"About a year and a half ago, I went home for a visit and to introduce my boyfriend to the family. He didn't know I was a witch so we had to keep magic a secret. Anyway, James saw us having an argument and during that argument, he shoved me into a wall."

Dean felt fury fill him and he had every intention of discovering the bastard's name, tracking him down and beating the shit out of him.

"He'd never laid a hand on me up until that point but he'd been drinking. When we came home, he suddenly started making comments about my family that I didn't appreciate and it didn't stop. So about a month later, I broke up with him and he _really_ didn't take it well."

"He hurt you?" He said, his nostrils flaring and his hands clenching into fists.

"Not as much as I hurt him, I assure you. He threw a vase at the wall and it smashed and caught my face, but I put him in the hospital. Well, my magic did; it acted out of instinct to protect me. He had his memory wiped and was arrested for domestic violence and threatening behaviour and I haven't seen him since."

"I want a name,"

"No, it's over and done with. You asked me a question and I answered."

"Hermione..."

"No, let it go, I have. It doesn't matter anymore. It's in the past and now I have you."

He took a deep breath to calm himself. "How old are the kids?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Albus is three and James will be six next week."

"Really?" She nodded. "Then we better make this the best weekend of his life."

She snorted at him. "I better go and check on them, I've left your breakfast in the oven, it should still be warm. You have about half an hour before the children get bored and start pestering you."

She reached up and pecked him on the lips, before walking away and heading for the stairs. Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair; what had he just gotten himself into?

~000~000~000~

**Three days later...**

Dean could honestly say that his weekend hadn't been as bad as he'd assumed it would be. Hermione's nephews had kept them both on their toes and they'd barely had any time to themselves, but he'd never had the chance to feel boredom either.

They'd spent all day Saturday out at the zoo with the children dragging them around each animal enclosure and the petting zoo _three_ times before they'd managed to convince the children that the zoo was closing for the day and they weren't lying because they wanted to leave. They'd gotten takeout on the way back to Hermione's house and ate in the car and by the time they arrived home, both kids had been asleep in the back seat. After helping Hermione to put the kids to bed, they'd retired for the night, too, being too exhausted to even attempt to stay awake. It didn't matter that the sun had barely set.

On Sunday they'd gone out again, the children begging him to take them for a drive in the Impala and Dean learned it was very hard to say no to them and Hermione hadn't bothered hiding her amusement.

When the kids could no longer hold their bladders, they'd stopped at a gas station and while Hermione had taken them to the toilet, Dean had bought a large variety of junk food to spoil the kids with. They'd drove for another hour or so with him educating the children on what _real music_ sounded like before they stopped by an empty field. That day Dean had taught the children how to play baseball and football and Hermione showed them how to climb trees. They were asleep in the car before they got home.

On that day, Monday, they'd woken to the weather being terrible, too terrible to do anything outdoors and so they'd stayed in. The children grew bored of drawing pictures and reading books and so a hide and go seek war had commenced, of course, Hermione won. Dean had called her a cheater because she'd used magic to turn herself invisible, meaning she hid in plain sight and it had taken him and the kids nearly an hour to find her, only doing so because her laughter gave her away. Unfortunately for Dean, the children had been on Hermione's side, telling him she hadn't cheated because they were playing _magical_ hide and go seek. He hated to admit it but he definitely felt cheated.

They ate lunch and after Albus had asked if they could make pie and Dean was fully on board with his idea, he'd helped Hermione and the kids to 'bake' several pies –doing nothing but eating most of the ingredients when she wasn't looking- and afterwards he ate a full one to himself, making the children laugh. Afterwards, he sat down to watch a bit of TV whilst the children did some more drawing, but he'd soon been interrupted by Albus asking him to read to him.

When they'd gotten bored of that the children had pounced on him, wanting to wrestle and Dean thought he did a good job of not injuring himself or the kids with the way they flung themselves at him and tried to tackle him to the floor. Hermione had just stood off to the side, sipping on a soda as she watched him amused, not in the least bit worried about him being attacked by the children, in fact, she encouraged them, telling them ways to better help them get him pinned to the ground.

But now, he'd had enough.

"Right, that's it!" Dean called suddenly, taking both children in his arms and picking them up before dropping them onto the couch. They laughed loudly and made to jump on him again, but he had other plans. "Get your Aunt!"

The children were all too happy to follow his command and Hermione let out a shriek before she stood from the stool and ran, the children chasing her in circles around the breakfast bar as they laughed loudly.

Hermione made a bee-line for the stairs and he grinned before stepping into her path and trapping her in his arms. Hermione squirmed to get free but he wasn't letting go, thinking it time for some payback. The children crowded her and their little hands moved to her sides, tickling her relentlessly and she squirmed harder and laughed louder, trying to get away from their assault but she was unsuccessful. In her struggle, they both fell to the ground and the children pounced on them both, Albus on Hermione and James on him.

"Traitors!" Dean called, trying to fight off the little hands that were torturing him and laughter bubbled from him when James tickled his ribs.

"I'm getting you back for this!" Hermione cried through her laughter.

Dean only noticed the fireplace suddenly roaring to life because he'd been trying to wiggle towards it, and out stepped Harry Potter.

Dean tried to stop his laughter but was struggling to get James to stop with his assault, the little wizard being a lot faster than he looked and his size definitely worked in his favour. Dean's laughter only grew louder when he saw Harry's eyes widen and his mouth drop open, watching the scene play out in front of him. Maybe he hadn't expected his kids to be so friendly with him.

"Boys," Harry spoke after clearing his throat.

"Daddy!" They both cried, thankfully giving up their assault, running over to their father and hugging him tightly.

"I see you've been having fun," he said.

Dean pulled himself to his feet and Hermione did the same, coming to stand beside him and as soon as she was close enough, she whacked him in the arm.

"Dean's fault," she said, her breathing being heavy from her laughing fit. "He set them on me."

"Hey, you thought it was funny when the roles were reversed, I just wasn't expecting them to turn traitor," he said, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Harry snorted at him, looking down at his kids amused. "Right, we better get home so go get your things, your mum's missed you."

The two children ran to the stairs and Hermione followed after them, leaving him alone with her brother. Dean had to stop himself from shifting on his feet in his nervousness. Whilst he wasn't afraid of Harry as he knew he could take him in a physical fight, he was aware he was capable of the same things as Hermione and that's what made him nervous. Should he choose to use magic against him, Dean wouldn't stand a chance.

"Look," Dean started, knowing they needed to get the awkward conversation out of the way if he ever wanted Harry to like him. He did want to be with Hermione and it would be a lot easier for him if her family liked him, too. "I know you're her brother and you want to protect her, but I can promise you I won't ever lay a finger on her."

"Excuse me if I don't take your word for it," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I care for her, I know she's special and not just because of her magic. She's got a heart of gold and I would never forgive myself if I allowed myself or someone else to destroy that. We haven't been together long, but I can honestly say she means the world to me and I don't know what I'd do without her. She told me about the ex that hurt her and if she'd give me his name, I'd kill the fucker for daring to lay a finger on her."

Harry tilted his head to the side, a slight frown pulling at his face. "You'd kill for her?"

"Without thought," he replied honestly. "When a guy grabs at her or won't leave her alone, she has to stop me from shooting them and that was _before_ we even started dating. I _have_ killed for her, just as she's killed for me."

"Damon Ashton," Harry said.

"What?" He said confused.

"That's his name."

Dean tipped his head slightly. "Thanks, I'll make sure he gets what's coming to him."

"Daddy!" James called, breaking them of their staring match as he entered the room with Albus and Hermione. "Can we stay with Aunt 'Mione and Uncle Dean again?"

At being referred to as 'Uncle Dean,' he'd never been more surprised in his life. Not even upon discovering that magic was real!

"Uncle Dean?" Both he and Harry said, but the latter had a raised eyebrow and was looking between him and James curiously.

"He's so cool," James grinned. "We like him," he said for himself and his brother.

Harry looked to Dean once more, a thoughtful look on his face before he nodded to himself. "Sure, when they're not working, they're very busy," Harry said.

He picked up Albus and set him on his hip and took James' hand in his and Hermione approached them, giving them both a quick kiss and hugging Harry. James let go of Harry's hand and ran over to him, hugging him around the waist and looking up at him with a toothy grin.

"I can't wait to see you again."

Clearing his throat, Dean shook his head. "Me too, Buddy."

Harry approached him when James pulled back and he held out his hand. Looking down at it, Dean slowly slipped his hand into his and they shook hands with their eyes locked. That one look held a lot of meaning. He was trusting him with Hermione's safety but most importantly, with her heart.

"Look after her," Harry muttered quietly so Hermione wouldn't hear.

"I will," he promised.

Releasing his hand, he stepped back and Harry headed for the fireplace. "Be careful," he said to Hermione before he disappeared into the flames with his children.

The silence that followed was deafening and Dean realised that he'd actually miss the kids. In just a few days they'd wormed their way into his heart and they'd given him a glimpse of what his future could be like if he played his cards right by not getting himself killed or messing things up with Hermione.

"And they're gone," Hermione said, flicking her wand and the mess that had been left behind, namely the books, pens, paper and couch cushions being on the floor, was suddenly gone and there was not a speck of dirt in sight.

"You know, we have the house to ourselves now."

Dean turned to look at her, his mouth twitching into a smirk. "I like the way you think and I've got to say, I can't stop thinking about you in that apron."

Hermione raised an eyebrow and laughter pealed from her when he lunged at her, chasing her around the breakfast bar, through the living room and to the stairs. The text tone on his cell phone had them both stopping and he pulled it from his pocket, seeing the message was from Bobby and it contained details about a new case.

"Case?" Hermione said.

He nodded. "Suspected werewolf,"

She bit her lip. "So that means it can wait until tomorrow?"

"Exactly," he said, throwing the cell phone onto the couch, chasing her up the stairs and tackling her onto her bed.

~000~000~000~

**Two weeks later...**

"This may be too soon, but I thought I'd ask," Hermione started as he climbed into the car having finished refuelling. "But do you want to come to London with me?"

"Why?"

"I've just received word that Ron's wife has gone into labour and he wants me there for when the baby's born."

"Seriously?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, he's already got a three-year-old, Hugo, this is his second child. I won't be there long, maybe a day or two and we can stay in a muggle hotel."

"Does this mean I'll be meeting the rest of your family?"

"I mean, we can try to avoid them if it would make you more comfortable. You can just stay at the hotel while I go to the hospital, and we can visit Diagon Alley as I need to restock on a few things anyway. It'll be your first time seeing the Wizarding World, but it can be a little overwhelming."

"Alright," he found himself agreeing. "But I'll come with you to meet your family."

She blinked in surprise before a smile pulled at her mouth. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, I've already met your brother and the saviour of your world, I might as well meet the others and get it out of the way."

She grinned and reached over to kiss his cheek. "Great, if we find somewhere out of sight, I'll apparate us to my house, you can let Bobby know we'll be unavailable for a few days and we'll floo over to London. No flying involved and no passport needed."

To Dean who hated flying with a passion, those were the magic words.

~000~000~000~

"It looks like a regular hospital," Dean commented, his eyes scanning his surroundings as Hermione led the way to the maternity ward.

Dean had been left disorientated when they'd stepped out of the fireplace and into a magical bar, seeing the beers and trays floating about the room as they found their intended targets and chairs disappearing and reappearing, depending on the number needed at a specific table. Hermione had to drag him out and onto the street where she explained it was a gateway between both worlds. After that, she'd teleported them to a hotel and booked them a room for a few days and he'd never seen or stayed in a place so clean, fancy or expensive. The bathtub alone had to be worth more than his car.

After dropping off their things she'd teleported them to an abandoned building and he thought she'd gotten lost until she pulled him towards a back entrance and when they stepped inside, it revealed the entrance room of a hospital.

"We're still humans, Dean," she replied. "We have the same needs as you; we just have magic to help us achieve them. Where you have science to create medication, we have potions and healing charms."

They found the waiting room and her brother Harry was the only one there and he stood upon their entrance, moving to hug Hermione and giving him a nod of greeting.

"Gin's at home with the kids, Molly's a bit under the weather and the others can't get away from work or the children," Harry explained as to why he was the only one there.

"How's she doing?" She asked.

"She went into labour about twelve hours ago, the last I heard they were getting ready to deliver the baby," he answered. Hermione nodded and brushed her hair back from her face. "Is it wise to bring him?" He questioned, nodding to him.

"Ron can piss off, he's married with two kids, he has no say in my life or who I date," Hermione responded.

Harry held his hands up in surrender. "Just thought I'd ask, if need be you know I'll run interference."

"You just don't want me to hex him."

"Not when there's a newborn baby nearby," he shrugged.

"It's that bad?" Dean found himself asking and they both turned to look at him, as if just remembering he was actually there.

"Ron's an arsehole," Harry said.

"And we've always had a volatile relationship," Hermione told him. "He knows exactly how to push my buttons and our arguments, more often than not, end in duels."

Harry winced. "The last one wasn't pretty," he said, bringing his hand up to rub at the back of his neck.

"He was being a dickhead and more than deserved it."

"Not saying he didn't, 'Mione. Just remember the baby, yeah?"

"I'd never harm a child."

Approaching footsteps drew their attention and Dean turned to see a tall redhead approaching them, wearing green scrubs and he was carrying a pink bundle in his arms, and what appeared to be a nurse was quietly hovering behind him. He recognised him from the photos at Hermione's house; it was her ex-boyfriend and best friend, Ron Weasley.

"Goodness!" Hermione breathed out before rushing over to him and Harry followed behind her at a slower pace with a smile pulling at his face.

"A girl!" Hermione said in surprise. "Merlin, she's beautiful, does she have a name yet?"

"Rose," the redhead responded, looking down at his newborn daughter adoringly before he reluctantly passed her over to Hermione. Dean noted that she looked as though she knew exactly what she was doing as she took the bundle in her arms, it obviously not being her first time.

"Congratulations, Mate," Harry said, putting his arm around Ron's shoulders and looking down at the little bundle.

"Godparents?"

"Obviously," both Hermione and Harry said and they chuckled, shaking their heads.

"How's Lavender?" Hermione asked. Dean assumed it was Ron's wife.

"They're running a few tests on her just to make sure she's alright," he responded. Looking up, Dean found his gaze getting caught by Ron's and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Who's he?"

"Oh, sorry. Ron, this is Dean," she introduced. "My boyfriend."

Dean didn't like the way her ex's eyes flashed or the way his body visibly stiffened and he found himself taking a step closer to Hermione and in doing so catching a glimpse of the bundle in her arms, seeing pale skin and a head of red wispy hair.

Seeming to know what was about to happen, Harry reached for the newborn and took her from Hermione before taking a step back. Hermione's hands came up her hips and her eyes narrowed, daring her ex-boyfriend to say something to anger her.

"Don't you dare look at Dean like that. We've been over this before, Ronald. You have absolutely no say in where I live, what I do with my life and who I date. We broke up a long time ago and it was your fault, not mine. You have no right to get possessive of me, especially when you have a wife."

"He's not good enough for you," the redhead argued. Dean couldn't find a fault in that argument; he actually agreed with him.

"Shove it, Ronald!" Hermione said, her voice rising in her anger. "You don't even know him. Dean's a good man and he certainly treats me far better than anyone ever has, especially you. In the time we've known each other he's never once insulted me, he's never once raised his voice and he's never once done something to hurt me or break my trust. And I wouldn't pick a fight with him, magic or not, he'll kick your arse."

Ron scoffed. "He's a muggle, right?"

"He is, but he's not just any muggle. He's a hunter."

Ron's eyes widened and he took a step back from her in surprise.

"Dean Winchester," Harry offered, gently rocking the newborn in his arms.

"Shit!" Ron whispered.

"Exactly," Hermione said smugly.

"How could you be so stupid, Hermione!" Ron exploded.

Harry winced and Hermione's hands came from her hips and clenched into tight fists down by her sides.

"We both know I'm a lot of things but stupid's not one of them," she replied.

Dean knew her so well that he knew she was barely keeping her anger in check and soon she'd explode. Someone usually died when that happened.

"He's a fucking hunter!"

"And?"

"And! And! And he's using you. You know they hate our kind and they kill us on sight and you brought him straight to us! He knows where we are now and he can have us all killed!"

"Can I hit him now?" Dean spoke for the time since the whole ordeal had begun.

Hermione turned to look at him over her shoulder and when her gaze locked with his, she took a deep breath before moving to stand beside him and he took her hand in his. His eyes moved to Ron who was glaring daggers at him and he felt his hand twitch, wanting to reach for his gun and Hermione sensing the same thing, gave his hand a squeeze.

"He's not using me, Ronald," she said as calmly as she could manage.

He laughed. He actually laughed at her.

"Of course he is; someone looking like him would never spare someone like you a second glance."

Dean had never wanted to punch someone as much as he did right now.

"Listen, you son of a bitch," he said, his anger being evident in his voice and he didn't even try to hide it. "You can insult me all you want, but if you say a bad word about Hermione again, even she won't be able to stop me from putting you in the ground."

Hermione squeezed his hand harder and he caught sight of Harry blinking dumbly, his gaze flying between him and Ron as he kept the baby out of harm's way.

"You've no right to even look at her. From what I can tell, you're a worthless piece of shit and you don't even deserve to breathe the same air as her. I _know_ I'm not good enough for her, I _know_ I don't deserve her yet she took a chance on me and I've never been more grateful. You're clearly blind to think that someone as beautiful as her wouldn't have admirers; I swear everywhere we go she has men falling at her feet."

He opened his mouth to retort but Harry put a stop to it. "Enough!" He snapped, before sighing and shifting the baby in his arms when she squirmed at the sound of his voice. "Look, Dean's right, you've always been blind when it came to Hermione, even when you were dating but you're not anymore and you need to stop believing you have any say in her life, because you don't. He may be a hunter, but I trust him with her safety. I trust him not to hurt her. I've seen him with James and Albus and they both love him, after only one meeting they started calling him 'Uncle Dean' and they haven't stopped talking about him for two bloody weeks."

"Crookshanks likes him, too," Hermione added. "Every morning we wake and he's laid across Dean's legs and he follows him around no matter where he goes."

Dean felt himself standing taller at the sound of pride in her voice and at them both blinking in surprise.

"Crookshanks can barely stand the sight of you," Hermione said and Dean found it very hard not to gloat to the redhead. "You know how protective he is of me and yet he treats Dean as if he's his Master, not me. I honestly don't care what you think about my relationship with him, I'm happy in my life and I'm happy with Dean and you need to accept that. I'm glad I got to meet Rose before the others arrive, but we better get to our hotel; I promised Dean I'd show him around Diagon Alley tomorrow. I'll see you later," she said, before turning to smile at Harry and then making for the door, but he stayed behind a little longer to issue a warning.

"You should know, I don't take kindly to people upsetting her and I'd kill anyone that dared to lay a finger on her, and I already have, _several_ times. I don't care if you've got kids or a wife, it won't stop me from putting a bullet in you should you upset her. And for the record, hunters don't hate your people. We don't like human sacrifice or soul-selling witchcraft, but we don't even know natural born magic exits. If a hunter's killed one of your kind then they did it not knowing what they were dealing with. Hermione plans on introducing me to the rest of her family which means we'll probably meet again and when that happens, I expect you to be a lot nicer to her. Regardless of magical transport, she dropped everything she was doing and rushed over here so she could be here for you and she deserves far better than what she received. Fix it."

Dean turned and headed for the door, nearly ploughing into Hermione as he stepped out of the room and into the hallway.

"You didn't have to do that?" She told him, looking down at the ground.

"Yes, I did. You're my girlfriend and nothing will stop me from defending you against assholes like him, friend or not."

"Thank you," she muttered and he reached out and wrapped himself around her as he pulled her into a hug.

She buried her face in his chest and sighed. "Just so you know, if I ever meet your father, I'm punching him in the face."

He snorted at her. "I don't think he'd appreciate that."

"I don't care, he's a wanker and he deserves it. If you can defend me against Ron, then I sure as hell can do the same when your father's involved. If I break my hand in the process, a potion will fix it and because I'll be feeling vengeful, I won't even heal the broken nose I plan on giving him."

"You're something else, Baby," he snorted.

"Baby?" She questioned, pulling back to look at him. He shrugged his shoulders. "You know, I like it. It's a lot better than Glinda or Poppins," she shook her head. "We've seen the little lady, now let's get back to the hotel. The time zones are going to wreak havoc on us and that bathtub's calling my name."

"I think I'll join you," he said.

"Thought you might," she said amused, taking his hand in hers and pulling him down the hall.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this is where I start messing around with the timeline. The episode Hell House was originally S01E17, but I'm going to have it happening right after S01E04, Phantom Traveller.
> 
> Page count: 27

**One month later...**

"Shit! Hermione! Are you alright?" Dean asked, coming to a stop at the end of the pier and looking out at her as she resurfaced from beneath the water, gasping for breath and he noted that she was splashing about far too much, in fact, she looked terrified.

"Dean! I can't swim!" She screamed.

"Fuck!" Dean cursed.

Panic filled him as he threw off his leather jacket and dived off the pier into the lake, making quick work of getting over to Hermione and pulling her back to land before she drowned. As she coughed and spluttered, he helped her climb back up the ladder and she collapsed onto the wooden planks with him rubbing her back, hoping it would help to calm her. Not caring in the slightest that it was actually quite cold in the evening breeze, he wrapped her up in his arms and she clung to him tightly as she worked to her get breathing back under control.

"Please tell me the arsehole's gone," she said after a few minutes, looking a lot calmer as she pulled back from him.

"The watch went up in flames," he nodded.

"Good, I _hate_ vengeful spirits," she muttered. "Why do they always target me?"

Dean couldn't answer that even if he wanted to because they did _always_ seem to target her first. He didn't know if it was because they thought her to be the weaker of them both, which he knew was wrong, or if it was something to do with her magic calling out to them.

"Let's get out of here," he said, standing and helping her to her feet and he was grateful when she pointed her wand at him, muttering beneath her breath and his hair and clothing dried, as did her own.

Picking up his leather jacket, he took her hand in his and they made their way away from the condemned lake house and back to the Impala, knowing they'd finished yet another case.

For Dean, he couldn't believe how fast the weeks were going. Since their return from London, they'd barely had chance to breathe let alone doing anything else, going from one case straight to another. Whilst in London Hermione had shown him the world she'd come from and it had been a shock to his system. After seeing the hospital and how ordinary it looked, he'd expected the same from the rest of her world and that couldn't have been farther from the truth.

Whilst she'd taken him shopping in a magical town and he'd seen that witches and wizards had the same needs as regular humans, he'd also seen that despite them being similar, they were also _very_ different, too. He'd seen the magical candy and foods they ate, he'd seen the strange clothing they wore and he'd seen the strange items they sold and bought.

But he'd also seen the strangely shaped buildings, the moving windows displays and the bright colours; the children running through the streets and laughing as the adults shopped with their bags levitating behind them. He'd seen the joy magic brought to the world and he honestly believed that true born magic was a blessing. He could admit that whilst the darkness did exist, too, it was outshone by the light.

And whilst it was a lot to take in, especially on his first visit, he hadn't wanted to leave and he'd only done so because Hermione had promised they'd return for another visit. The little magical town had made him feel relaxed and free and joyous, it had made him feel like a child again and he'd barely stopped himself from acting as such.

And during their visit to the little town, he'd been introduced to another of Hermione's brothers, George, the owner of a magical pranks store. Upon seeing the clashing orange and purple of the outer building and hearing the loud explosions coming from inside, he'd been the one to drag Hermione into the building and they'd soon been greeted by a tall redhead.

While Dean got the feeling George was protective of Hermione, it was to nowhere near the extent Harry and Ron had been and George had listened to what Hermione had to say before shaking his hand, giving him _the warning_ -and if he were being honest, George scared him more than the others had- and then offering him a tour of his store. He'd almost walked out with a bag of free goodies but Hermione had put a stop to it and he wouldn't admit it, but he'd pouted for a solid ten minutes before getting swept up in the magic that surrounded him.

They also ran into another of her brothers when they'd visited the magical bank and he'd almost drawn his gun and caused a scene when he saw it was being run by goblins -actual goblins! Bill, the eldest he'd learned, had been bright and friendly despite the large scar that covered half his face and made him look intimidating. He'd done much the same as George and threatened him with dark and powerful curses and then shook his hand. He hadn't met the woman and man that had taken her in, one being at work and the other not being well and he hadn't met her other brother Charlie as he lived in Romania or Percy as he'd been at work. But he had met Ginny and hell; he'd needed a drink afterwards to help with the headache.

He'd never met someone who could talk so much without taking a single breath or pause in-between sentences. He never received a warning from her; she'd preferred to just send Hermione suggestive looks when she thought he wasn't looking. After spending some time with the kids, Hermione had known he'd had an overwhelming day and declined the offer to join them for dinner and they'd returned to their hotel where they'd ordered room service and watched TV and the next day they returned to America, getting straight back on the road and Dean back to his comfort zone.

"I didn't know you couldn't swim," he said aloud.

She shrugged her shoulders. "My parents never had time to teach me as they were always busy working and before I knew it, I'd gone away to Hogwarts. I hadn't really been afraid of the water, not until I was fifteen and placed in a magical sleep beneath a creature infested lake where I was to be rescued by one of the champions of the tournament. I almost drowned the both of us when the spell wore off and we resurfaced and I've hated large bodies of water since."

"I'm going to have to teach you," he replied.

She snorted. "Not happening, not only will I not be able to get near a body of water large enough without freezing, even with Calming Draughts in my system, but I wouldn't be able to focus. I'm past the point now where I know I'll never be able to swim so I tend to just avoid anywhere that I may need such a skill. I wasn't expecting to literally be thrown from the house into the lake despite the distance between them."

Reaching the car, they climbed in and started off on their journey back to their motel knowing, they needed to check on Crookshanks as he'd been on his own since they'd left that morning.

"Before we leave in the morning, we need to stop somewhere so I can buy new towels," she said and he saw the glare she sent him from the corner of his eye.

She'd been far from happy when he'd used her towels to clean himself up after tinkering with the Impala and getting himself covered in oil.

"Just use the provided ones like everyone else."

"I don't think so, I'd rather not catch diseases from others. Would you use a stranger's toothbrush? Or wear someone else's underwear?" He grimaced at the thought. "Exactly, I don't want to be using a towel that's touched someone else's bits."

He snorted at her. "They do wash them, and I use your towels."

"It's not as if you keep your bits to yourself."

A smirk pulled at his mouth as he turned to look at her. No, he _really_ didn't.

~000~000~000~

**Three days later...**

"Heard from the arsehole?" Hermione asked as she stepped out of the bathroom in her pyjamas and towel drying her hair after having taken a shower.

He snorted at her as he locked the door behind him and avoided tripping over the fat cat that came to greet him. She no longer referred to his father as such and rather just called him an asshole. He really shouldn't but he found it funny.

"No," he responded, picking Crookshanks up and putting him on the bed as this one was higher than usual and giving his weight, he found it difficult to jump that high.

"You're worried aren't you?" She said knowingly.

Dean sighed, pulling out a chair from beneath the table and taking a seat. He thought about denying it but knew there was no point. Hermione was the only person he'd met that could not only read him like one of her much loved books, but that he couldn't lie to either.

"Yeah," he mumbled.

She frowned and dropped her towel on the bed, making her way over to him and as soon as she was close enough, he snagged her around the waist and pulled her to sit on his lap, his face going straight to her neck and breathing her the fresh scent of apples as he nudged aside her damp hair with his nose.

"It's been a few weeks, maybe it's time," she told him.

He knew she was right, something was definitely wrong and he knew his father was keeping things from him, just as he was doing the same. When Bobby had told him his father was acting strange, Dean had contacted him and waited a few days until he received a reply. Giving it was barely a few sentences he thought his father to be fine, being used to short responses. He'd made sure to text his father a few times a week despite only receiving a reply to one of them. But now it had been just over three weeks since he'd last heard from his father.

"You think we should go looking?" He said knowingly.

She shrugged her shoulders. "He's your father; is it like him to go so long without contacting you?"

"Not usually this long, two weeks at most."

"I don't want you to be distracted by this," she said.

"You just want to meet him so you can punch him in the face," he snorted.

"That, too," she said shamelessly and he chuckled. "We'll head out in the morning, any idea where he might be?"

"If he's gone this long without contacting me it can't be good, I'm hoping he's just injured and he's holed up somewhere and laying low. He's got a few safe houses, we'll check them first."

"Where's the first one?"

"Bobby's," he answered.

"And we know he's not there which crosses that off the list. Where else?"

"I'll tell you in the morning, but right now, I need a distraction," he muttered, his mouth placing butterfly kisses to the skin of her neck and shoulder.

She let out a sigh and her hands came up to his hair, gently tugging on the strands and her nails lightly scratching at his scalp.

"So that's all I am to you? A distraction," she teased.

"No, you're everything to me," he found himself muttering and he meant it.

She really did mean the world to him. Without her, he would've died months ago. Without her, he wouldn't have the light that kept him sane and gave him reason to continue fighting every day. Without her, he would be lonely and drunk and numb. She gave his life meaning; he fought every day to not only protect her, but to protect others that were like her. She gave him companionship and laughter. She made him happy. He felt cared for, important, like he mattered.

She _did_ mean the world to him. He couldn't stand the thought of her getting hurt or of losing her, especially to another man. He didn't want to be separated from her for longer than necessary. He loved taking care of her, sleeping with her curled up in his arms, even just watching her reading, seeing the way her facial expressions changed as she read through the pages. He loved showing her parts of the US she'd never seen before and introducing her to new experiences.

Her constant presence and magic was comforting and warm. He just loved being with and around her and he honestly didn't know what he'd do without her.

What did love feel like? Was this it?

"You're really sweet when you want to be," she sighed.

"I'm not sweet," he muttered.

"Like honey,"

He stood from the chair with her in his arms and he carried her over to the bed, dropping her onto the mattress and attacking her ribs with his fingers as squeals and laughter pealed from her.

It was a pure and joyous sound that he always felt like the weight of the world had been taken off his shoulders when he heard it. He loved to see her laughing, being happy and bright like the big ball of sunshine that she was.

He loved everything about her; from her insults towards his father, to her annoyance at supernatural beings for trying to kill her; from her endless appetite to her complaints of being hungry; from her strength and fierceness to her kindness and compassion. She'd suffered terribly in her youth yet he'd never once heard her complain, he'd never once heard her say she wished it had never happened to her.

Looking down at her, he couldn't take his eyes off the way her head was tilted back as she laughed, as her eyes screwed shut and tears of laughter threatened to fall, as her body wriggled and squirmed trying to get away from his assault. She really was beautiful.

Was this love?

Did he love her?

~000~000~000~

A loud, annoying beeping sounded in the room and it woke the both of them up. Dean groaned and rolled onto his back, slowly peeling an eye open to see the time on the alarm clock and it was not long past six in the morning; far too early to be up.

Dean turned with the intention to pull Hermione back into his arms and falling back to sleep for a little while longer, only she wasn't there. The lights in the room suddenly switched on and he blinked as it hurt his eyes, before he sat up in bed and frowned at the way she'd darted over to her magical bag and she was rummaging around inside of it as if her life depended.

In the end, she tipped the bag upside down, various items of clothing, wash products and food falling onto the ground in a mess. He found himself frowning at the way she dropped onto her knees and her hands and eyes raked over the items, looking for one in particular.

"I can't find it, I can't find it," she said, her voice taking a hysterical tone and it had him climbing out of bed and crouching down in front of her.

He didn't know what she was looking for but he did his best to help her find it, moving the items she'd already pushed off to the side further away and moving the larger items as he guessed her to be looking for something small.

She let out a cry of frustration and he felt himself growing worried; he'd never seen her so panicked, worried, _frightened_. The shine of something golden caught his eyes and not knowing why, he moved the few items that covered it out of the way and picked it up in his hand, feeling it growing hotter the longer he held it. From what he could tell, it looked like one of the strange golden coins Hermione had used for currency in her world and although his knowledge of magic was limited, he knew this was no ordinary coin.

He blinked when it was ripped from his grasp and Hermione held it in her palm, looking down at it with her teeth gnawing at her lip and her breathing picking up.

"No," she whispered, a tear leaking from her eye and running down her cheek.

"Hermione?" She ignored him, still staring down at the coin. "Baby? What's wrong?" He asked, trying to keep his voice gentle and calm but it was very difficult at seeing her so unlike herself.

She blinked and slowly raised her eyes to his. "Harry," she whispered. "We only use these in life and death situations," she explained, her eyes darting back down to the coin and then moving back to him. "He's in the hospital, they don't know if he's going to make it."

Dean felt his stomach twist in knots and his heart clench; he couldn't imagine what she was going through, knowing that if something like that ever happened to his brother he wouldn't know how to cope.

"You have to go, you need to be with him," he told her gently.

He hated the thought of being away from her, but he had to find his father and she needed to be with her brother.

"But your..."

He shook his head. "You need to go, your family needs you and mine needs me."

She took a deep breath and gripped the coin in her hand tightly and the other came up to wipe at her face before she stood and grabbed her wand, packing everything away into her bag. She put on the first pair of jeans she could find and didn't bother changing out of his t-shirt that she'd worn to bed. She pulled her hair up into a knot on her head and slipped on her shoes before turning to face him.

"Be careful," she said. He gave her a lopsided smile. "I promise I'll be back as soon as I can and if you haven't found your father by then I'll help you look. As you know, you won't be able to contact me when I'm in my world, so please be careful."

"I'll be fine," he said, but even he heard how unconvincing that was.

"I'll use my magic to track you so be on the lookout for me."

He watched as her hands came up to her necklace and she removed it, holding it out to him. He blinked in surprise, knowing how important it was to her and that she was giving it to him.

"This will give you some protection should you happen to run into a witch whilst I'm gone. It'll deflect most common hexes and curses and it'll alert you to dark magical auras, namely supernatural witches. With this, you'll always have a piece of me with you as my magic is literally attached it."

"I won't lose it," he promised her, taking it from her hand and gripping it in his own.

He reached out and pulled her into a hug, not knowing how long she'd be gone or when he'd next see her and she snuggled into him, her nose brushing his bare chest and her arms wrapping around him tightly.

She pulled back from him and seeing as she'd given him something, he felt he should give her something in return, something that would remind her she wasn't alone and despite him not being with her in person, he was with her in spirit.

Looking about the room for something suitable, he caught sight of the single ring that sat on his right ring finger and he didn't know why, but he thought it perfect. He quickly slipped it off his finger and held it out to her, seeing her blinking slowly as she stared at it.

"Be careful with it, it's my favourite beer bottle opener," he told her.

A small laugh sounded from her before she took it from him, holding it in her clasped hand. "I'll guard it with my life," she promised.

She stepped closer to him, reaching up on her tiptoes and pressing a chaste but meaningful kiss to his mouth and she pulled away from him before he even had chance to reach for her and keep her to him for a little while longer.

"Crooks, let's go," Hermione said.

As Hermione busied herself with collecting her coat and bag, the fat cat jumped down off the bed and walked between his parted legs a few times, brushing up against him. Crouching down, he scratched the ginger fluff-ball behind the ears.

"Keep an eye on her," he muttered and he received a very telling look in response, namely Crookshanks thinking him stupid for even daring to say such a thing to the familiar of a witch; it was their purpose to protect and guide them.

He stood up and Hermione picked Crookshanks up in her arms, holding him to her tightly. She tried to smile at him but he could see right through it; she was worried for his safety just as much as she was worried about her brother. She opened her mouth to say something and her eyes welled with tears.

"I..." Shaking her head, her mouth closed before she spun on her heel, disappearing with a 'crack.'

Dean just stared at the empty spot she'd previously occupied, being unsure of what to do next. After being with Hermione all day and every day for the better part of six months he knew he would struggle to get used to being by himself again, especially as he relied on her to cover his blind spots and keep him safe.

Letting out a sigh, Dean looked down to the necklace gripped in his hand before he headed for the bathroom, switching on the light and standing in front of the sink. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he watched himself reach up to fasten the silver chain around his neck and he blinked in surprise when it resized itself so it better fit him, the little otter sitting in the centre of his chest and just above his amulet.

Warmth and comfort surrounded him and he felt his mouth twitching at the corners when he realised that it felt like Hermione. He could _feel_ her magic even though she wasn't with him and that just made her offering all the more special to him. Not only had she given him something of extreme sentimental value, but she'd given a piece of herself over to him, something he'd always have with him and something that would protect him. It was almost as if she hadn't left at all.

Leaving out the bathroom and stepping back into the room, he stared at the empty bed. He knew he would find it difficult to sleep now. He'd gotten so used to her warmth and the softness of her body as he held her close, he'd gotten so used to her freezing feet seeking warmth from him and her scent of apples always surrounding him, that he just knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until she was back with him.

He thought it strange that he missed her already and she'd barely been gone five minutes, but he did. He missed not only her, but Crookshanks, too.

Running a hand through his hair and looking back to the clock, it had barely been half an hour since he'd been woken and he saw no point in going back to bed, not now that he was wide awake and he no incentive to want to climb back into bed now that Hermione was gone. So, he decided to ready for the day, head out for an early breakfast and begin his search for his father.

~000~000~000~

**Two days later...**

After a couple of days and reaching out to a few of his father's old sources, he'd learned that not only had they not heard from him, but that he hadn't been by any of the safe houses in months.

His worry for his father only grew and he didn't have Hermione to help distract him and keep him sane and he honestly hadn't realised how much he'd come to depend on her but since her leaving to go to her brother's side, Dean's life had changed. It was as if she'd taken all the joy and brightness with her and he hated it. He hated being on his own and he could really do with her being by his side and helping him with his search but he knew he couldn't be selfish and she was needed elsewhere.

He knew he couldn't do it by himself and he only had one more option available to him. He'd spent half a day travelling to Stanford University knowing it was where his little brother would be found.

He really didn't want to drag him into everything as he'd made it perfectly clear he wanted nothing to do with the hunting lifestyle or their father, but Dean needed his help and he was hoping that some part of his brother did still care for their father. In the three years, he'd been gone, Dean had never once condemned Sam for his choices, and he'd never once tried to convince him to return or force him to do something he didn't want to do. He'd given Sam space to live his life how he wished and he hoped that it would work in his favour and help to convince Sam to aid in his search for their father.

By the time he arrived at Sam's apartment, it was well into the early hours of the morning and he'd shut off the engine and headed for the front door. After knocking several times and not receiving any acknowledgement of his presence, he picked the lock with ease and slipped inside, blindly navigating the building until he reached the kitchen, admittedly making more noise than he wanted to when he crashed into the fridge and knocked a chair over.

Feeling a presence behind him he instinctively blocked the blow that aimed for his stomach and a fight broke out before he pinned the large man to the ground, a laugh of surprise leaving him as he stared down at his little brother in the darkness of the room.

"Easy tiger," he grinned.

He couldn't believe how much Sam had changed in the time he'd been gone. God, he'd grown to be several inches taller than him and he'd finally grown into his ears. He looked a lot more like their father, too, and Dean thought he needed a haircut to tidy up his mop of hair.

"You're a little out of practice," he said, before he suddenly found himself being flipped over and slammed into the ground. "Or maybe not," he said through a groan before pulling himself to his feet, staring up at his little brother and it was going to take some getting used to as he'd always been the taller one growing up.

"What are you doing here, Dean?" His brother asked, looking equally as shocked as he did annoyed.

"We need to talk," he responded.

"Ever heard of a phone?"

"Would you have answered if I called?" Dean said and Sam remained silent, giving him his answer.

The light suddenly switched on and he blinked before turning towards the voice that called out his brother's name, an eyebrow raising at the sight of the pretty and half-dressed blonde that stood in the doorway of the bedroom, looking between him and Sam confused. Dean admitted she was pretty but he thought Hermione to be prettier, but then he was biased in his opinion.

"Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica," Sam said and Dean's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline at the news, but he tipped his head in greeting.

"Nice to meet you, but you mind if I borrow your boyfriend, private family business?" He said, but he didn't give her the chance to respond, grabbing Sam by the arm and pulling him into a separate room. He saw Sam about to argue so he was quick with his explanation. "Dad hasn't been home in a few days," he said.

"So, he'll stumble back drunk like always," Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"He's on a hunting trip," he said, his eyes darting to the doorway where he caught sight of Sam's girlfriend eavesdropping. "I haven't heard from him in weeks and he hasn't been by any of the safe houses."

Sam's arms dropped by his sides, his eyes widened and his mouth pulled into a thin line.

~000~000~000~

**Two weeks later...**

It'd taken a little while for Dean to get through to the kid but he'd finally figured him out. The kid was a select mute, not having spoken since the death of his father and honestly, he couldn't blame him. He'd lost his mother when he was a few years younger than Lucas and if he hadn't have had his father or his brother, it may have very well happened to him, too.

Dean knew the kid knew more than he was letting on and the adults that surrounded him wanted to protect him and while he could understand that, it was also hindering their investigation. He'd tried to get the kid to talk and had been unsuccessful, but he'd been in his motel room watching TV when a thought struck him and now he and Sam were heading over to the Sheriff's Station where they knew the kid and his mom to be.

It'd been two weeks since he'd gone to Sam for help and it had taken one hell of an argument before Sam finally agreed to help him with the search for their father, though he stressed it was only for a few days. After catching a case they believed to be tied to their father and them both having to deal with a spirit that killed unfaithful men, Dean dropped Sam back off at Stanford with the intention to leave him to his life and he'd continue with his search by himself, only it hadn't happened that way.

Sam had witnessed his girlfriend's murder the same way he'd witnessed their mother's when he was just a baby and that had been the final nudge that pushed Sam back into the hunting lifestyle, searching not only for their father, but the demon that had killed their mother over two decades ago.

Dean hadn't known what to do or say to his little brother because God knew that if that had ever happened to him and Hermione was taken from him, he wouldn't rest until he'd killed everyone even remotely tied to it. Dean wasn't exactly sure how Sam was dealing, if anything he seemed too calm about it all and he'd fallen right back into hunting as if he'd never left, but it had taken Sam a little while to get used to actually being back in the game. And Dean knew he was certainly surprised by the changes in him, mainly that now that he never wandered off with a woman and that he was much more cautious, all of it being Hermione's doing.

Dean hadn't told Sam about Hermione, not because he was ashamed of her but because he hadn't known how to bring it up. Before it hadn't mattered as Sam's intentions had been to return to Stanford and they probably wouldn't have seen each other again for a few years, but after his girlfriend was murdered, Dean hadn't had the heart to tell his brother about his own relationship with the little witch, and God, he missed her so much!

In the weeks she'd been gone he noted he didn't laugh as much, he didn't have as much fun driving for long periods of time and he certainly didn't enjoy the thrill of the hunt without her by his side. He didn't sleep as much as he used to and he often found himself lying awake at night, listening to his brother's loud snores and when he did finally manage to fall asleep, he always woke well before Sam and he'd caught sight of quite a few sunrises since.

He missed her laughter, her comforting scent and presence; her complaints of being hungry and when heading out for food, it had taken him a week to get over the fact he didn't need to order for Hermione despite the words being on the tip of his tongue when he reached the counter. The number of times he'd almost ordered tea rather than coffee for Sam was actually shameful.

He hadn't heard from her since she'd left and when he didn't have the distractions of working a case and tracking his father, his mind always strayed to her, wondering how she was doing, if her brother was fine and if she was safe and sleeping. He wondered if she thought about him and if she was as worried about him as he was her.

"Is that cat hair?"

Dean shook his head and turned his eyes towards Sam, seeing him looking behind him to the back seat and a single ginger hair sat on the leather seat.

"Maybe, maybe not," he answered, neither admitting nor denying it. He didn't want to lie to Sam but he didn't want to tell him the truth either, not yet at least, not when everything with Jess was still fresh on the mind.

"Why is there cat hair in here?"

"Transference maybe," he shrugged.

"And when have you been around a cat?"

Dean shrugged. "You'd be surprised."

"But you hate cats," Sam said.

"I don't hate them," he muttered. Well, he didn't hate Crookshanks but he wasn't technically a cat, he was part cat and part magical cat. It didn't count. "Oh, we're here, great," Dean said, pulling up to the Sheriff's Station and climbing out of the car.

"What are we doing here again?" Sam asked.

"The kid knows more than he's letting on and I want to see what I can get out of him."

"He won't talk to anyone."

"I know, so I'm trying something different."

"If his mom can't get him to talk, what makes you think that you can? You have no experience with kids, you hate them."

"I don't hate them, kids love me," he argued, thinking of Hermione's nephews, James and Albus, but he had yet to meet the children of her other siblings.

"Name three children you know," Sam spoke.

That was easy, James, Albus, the newborn Rose, and her older brother Hugo despite not having met him yet, but Dean was saved from answering when they stepped into the station.

It didn't take much to convince the Sheriff and Lucas' mother to let him speak to him and he stepped over to the desk where the kid was sat, staring out of the window.

"Hey, Lucas, how you doing?" He said, but the kid didn't look at him or respond and he didn't expect him to. "Listen, I need your help to stop these bad things from happening."

Dean reached over for some paper and the stationary organiser that sat the pens and placed them on the desk beside the kid.

"Do you think you can help me?"

Lucas turned to look at him before his eyes fell down to the desk and he slowly reached for a pen and the paper. Dean remained silent until he was finished and he picked up the drawings to see a house and a lake. While it didn't mean much to him, he was sure the kid was trying to point him in the right direction.

"Thanks," he said, ruffling the young boy's hair and leaving him alone as he made his way over to Sam. "A lead," he said, pressing the drawings into his brother's hands and walking away, leaving behind a surprised Sam.

~000~000~000~

**One week later...**

"I thought we agreed on a truce," Dean said, sending a glare to Sam as he wiped away the sugary liquid from his face and he noted it smelled faintly like lemonade.

Another week had gone by and although he really did miss Hermione, having Sam with him helped to make him feel less alone. They were slowly mending the rift in their relationship that had been caused years ago and despite them arguing and squabbling, they were getting along better than they had in years. But he still couldn't wait to have Hermione back with him and he was gearing up to tell Sam about her. Sam had already noticed his new necklace and asked him about it several times and Dean had been able to steer the conversation somewhere else, but he couldn't do it for much longer.

A few days ago they'd taken a case which had him boarding a plane and trying to identify and destroy a phantom during mid-flight before it had chance to kill anyone else and Dean had never been more fearful. He could've definitely used one of Hermione's Calming Potions that day but a few drinks had had the same effect.

Dean and Sam were now currently in Richardson, Texas and dealing with a supernatural being that had been born purely out of belief. In order to amuse himself, he'd pulled a prank on Sam during the drive over and as a result, a prank war had broken out. Dean wished Hermione had allowed George to give him those magical prank products as they would've come in very handy.

After he put itching powder in Sam's clothing, put salt in his coffee and sugar on his fries, Sam had super-glued his hand to his beer bottle, changed the music in the Impala and woken him up during the night with a scary ass clown mask, they'd called a truce. But now here he was, stood in the middle of his motel room soaked from head to toe in what he thought was lemonade, after walking through the door and tripping a wire that tipped a bucket of the stuff over his head.

"We did, I swear it wasn't me," Sam responded, holding his hands up in surrender and although he laughed, he did look a little confused, but Dean wasn't sure whether to believe him or not.

Dean frowned before heading for the bathroom and picking up a towel, wiping his face dry and running it through his hair.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked Sam, after walking back into the room to see Sam staring out the window.

"Nothing, I just could've sworn I saw a cat," Sam replied.

"A cat?" Dean raised an eyebrow before shrugging off his leather jacket and wiping the lemonade off it.

"Yeah, but I swear, it looked just like the one I saw earlier."

"Have you been drinking?" He asked and Sam sent him an annoyed look over his shoulder.

"No and I'm not losing my mind, I definitely saw a cat."

"If you say so," Dean said, eyeing his brother carefully before he turned and headed over to his bed, putting the towel down on the mattress and reaching up to tug his t-shirt off, leaving him shirtless and just as a knock sounded at the door.

Looking over his shoulder he saw Sam eyeing it warily before heading over to it, unlocking it and pulling it open and Dean turned back to his bed until he froze at the sound of the voice that flittered to his ears, a voice he'd recognise anywhere.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm staying in the room down the hall and my shower's broken, would you mind if I used yours?"

"Err..." Sam spoke in surprise.

Dean whipped around so fast he made himself dizzy and he couldn't stop the way his stomach seemed to drop, the way his heart seemed to skip a beat or the way a smile spread across his face at the sight of his beautiful girlfriend stood on the other side of the door. She was dressed differently to how he was used to seeing her, but he always thought her to be beautiful. Instead of the jeans, boots and a t-shirt, she was now wearing a pretty white sundress with a pink cropped cardigan over the top and she had pink flats on her feet. Her hair was left to fall down her back as usual, only now it was done in a half-up half-down style.

Her eyes moved from Sam and over to him, the friendly smile that was on her face softening and her eyes locked with his.

"Hermione?" He breathed out.

"Honey, I'm home," she sang softly, her eyes shining brightly.

He took a deep breath and took a step forward before realisation dawned on him. How did he really know it was her? And he didn't even have to voice his question as she answered before he could.

"I don't suppose you've eaten yet, have you? I haven't eaten in a couple of hours and I'm starving," she said.

A laugh of surprise left him before he took a step towards her, only she'd darted past Sam with her smaller frame and she ploughed into him, almost knocking him off his feet. His arms automatically wrapped around her to keep her to him and he buried his face against her neck, the strong scent of apples invading his nose. It was definitely her. Even if there hadn't been a demon trap she'd just crossed over, he knew no one would be able to mimic her comforting scent.

"I missed you," she breathed out in a whisper, burying her face against his chest.

"I missed you, too, Baby," he muttered, placing a kiss to the skin of her shoulder and then one to her neck, a slight sigh leaving her.

She pulled back far enough to look up at him and she raised an eyebrow at seeing his damp hair, not to mention she could probably smell the lemonade on him. He opened his mouth to explain but a sudden giggle left her and not only did she look amused, but she also looked guilty and he stared at her.

"Did you do this to me?" He asked.

"Yeah," she admitted, her giggles turning into laughter. "I've always said you're sweet,"

"I'm not sweet," he argued and she snorted at him.

"Like honey, Honey," she replied and he tried to scowl at her only he couldn't, being too happy to have her back with him and he pulled her back into a hug.

"Err... Sorry to interrupt but who are you and what the hell's going on?" Sam spoke up.

Dean sighed and released Hermione from his hold but he didn't allow her to move away from him, instead tucking her into his side.

"I wanted to tell you, but after Jess..." he trailed off and Sam frowned in confusion. "Hermione, this Sam, Sam, this is Hermione, my girlfriend."

Dean actually thought Sam was going to faint, his jaw fell slack, his eyes widened and he swayed on his feet slightly.

"Girlfriend?" He spluttered.

"Girlfriend, we've officially been together about four months."

"Plus the two months he spent trying to win my affection only I made him work for it," Hermione said amused and he barely stopped himself from pinching her in warning.

"I need to sit down," Sam muttered, moving to sit on his bed and his eyes darting between him and Hermione.

"How's your brother? What happened?" He asked Hermione as he pulled her over to his bed and sat down beside her.

"He was injured during a raid. He was cursed and Bill and I spent a week and a half trying to find a cure. He was released from the hospital after two weeks and I stayed with Ginny to help care for Harry and the kids while he was on bed rest. We had a bit of a party for him today as he was officially given the all-clear and returned to work, hence why I'm all dressed up," she answered, gesturing to her clothing.

"I'm glad he's alright," he said and she smiled at him.

"Me too, I don't know how Ginny coped but the stress can't have been good for the baby. I was worried it would send her into an early labour and James and Albus didn't much help with their behaviour either."

Sam clearing his throat drew their attention. "I have questions," he said.

"Thought you might," Dean nodded.

"How did you meet? How did you know we were here?"

"I met Hermione while working a case, she owns a book store and she helped me with the research, saved my life, too, literally. I would've bled out if she hadn't found me and patched me up. Bobby knew her beforehand and he's very protective of her, when he found out we were together he threatened to kill me, wouldn't even let me stay in the same room as her when we visited a while back," he said and Hermione snorted in amusement. Sam blinked slowly in response and Dean had expected it.

"How much does he know?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing, I never told him about you..."

"So he doesn't know about my _special abilities_?"

"Definitely not," he shook his head. "Can I tell him?"

"Will he kill me?"

"I won't let him anywhere near you," he promised before turning his attention to Sam, seeing him looking very confused. "Sammy, keep an open mind and remember that she's under Bobby's protection and he loves her like a daughter, because what I'm about to tell you is unbelievable."

~000~000~000~

"I...I...Well shit!" Sam breathed out, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, exactly," Dean said, gripping Hermione's hand in his tightly.

Between the two of them, they'd explained the basics of Hermione's magic and her world as well as how they'd met and how they'd come to be together. Sam had just sat and listened but Dean was glad to see that he seemed to have taken a logical approach and hadn't immediately started to throw around insults or weapons, especially after Hermione had demonstrated what her magic was capable of, proving she wasn't evil.

"Never thought I'd see you with a witch."

"A _true born_ witch, we're very, _very_ different," Hermione said.

"She's special," Dean shrugged. "And she's saved my ass more times than I can count. I've come to realise her magic's a gift."

Sam turned his eyes to Hermione. "So you used to be a magical hunter?"

"Technically, I was with my partner for almost five years, something happened and I needed a fresh start so I retired from my job and moved from Britain to Colorado. I met Bobby in the process of house hunting and after helping him with a case, he learned my secret and we became close. If there was something he needed help with he'd ask me as I'm an expert in magical beings and creatures, as well as languages, mainly Latin and Ancients Runes, with some French, Spanish and Mandarin on the side. Dean asked me to hunt with him when he discovered I missed my old life, it was all I'd known. I've been his partner since and I haven't looked back," she explained, looking up to him with a smile. "We'd planned on searching for your father but the morning we were set to leave I received word my brother was in the hospital and the healers weren't sure if he was going to make it, so I rushed over to Britain and now I'm back."

"Finally," Dean muttered, ignoring the strange look Sam sent him.

"If you have a girlfriend, why did you flirt with other women?"

Dean didn't know what Sam had expected from Hermione but he knew it definitely wasn't her response.

"Did he buy them a drink? Touch them in any way that's not appropriate or otherwise? Did he say anything suggestive? Or leave with any of them?"

"No," Sam answered.

She turned to look at him. "Were you attracted to any of them?"

"No," he answered honestly.

"Why?"

"I have you," he replied.

She turned back to Sam. "Dean's a flirt; I knew it the moment he walked into my book shop. I don't get jealous because I know I'm the one he wants and I'm the one he falls asleep with. Not to mention, him being a flirt actually comes in handy when we need to sweet-talk information out of someone. Any more questions?"

"A few," Sam replied.

"They can wait," Dean muttered. "Where's the ginger fur-ball?" He asked Hermione.

She rolled her eyes before standing and heading over to the door, opening it and letting out a whistle and he soon heard a little bell jingling, alerting him to Crookshanks presence. He stepped into the room, meowing loudly and he walked straight over to him, jumping up onto the bed and climbing onto his lap. Dean chuckled and scratched the fat cat behind the ears.

"I missed you, too," he mumbled.

"That's it! That's the cat I saw!" Sam said, gesturing to him wildly. "He's why there's cat hair in the car, isn't he?"

Dean shrugged. "He's a magical cat, very different from regular cats. He can sense when Hermione's in danger and he can alert us to shape-shifters, as he's already done. We were just walking down the street when he took off, leading us straight to one."

"And I got you a present," Hermione spoke up and Dean looked to her, wondering why she was still stood with the door open.

"What is it?" He asked warily.

She grinned at him and stepped out of the room before returning a few moments later and he blinked at the sight of a small cat being nestled in her arms. It was too big to be a kitten but it didn't quite look old enough to be considered an adult. Its fur was pure white with a single black spot on the nose and two black ears, and it had large, bright blue eyes. Whilst it was nowhere near as fluffy as Crookshanks, it wasn't far off and it certainly didn't look as scruffy or fat.

"Crookshanks adopted himself a stray kitten and refused to leave her behind," she explained, closing the door behind her and walking over to him, taking a seat beside him on the bed. "From what I can tell she's part kneazle, too, and around six months, give or take a few weeks. She's already had all of her vaccinations and she's been treated for fleas and ticks. Now, she's yours."

He blinked in surprise when she placed the little cat in his hands without any warning.

"What?" He blurted out, blinking slowly.

"She's yours," she shrugged. "If you form a bond with her the way I have Crookshanks, she'll alert you to danger and protect you just as Crookshanks does me. She'll be your familiar, just without the magic part of course."

Dean honestly didn't know what to say to her and he couldn't believe she'd literally brought a cat back from Britain and given it to him as if it was an everyday occurrence. One cat he could handle, but two? And a young one at that?

"Crookshanks will watch out for her when we leave them alone and he'll make sure she behaves when in the car," she told him. "So, she's yours, what's her name?"

Dean looked down into the bright blue eyes and the little cat meowed at him before reaching out to bat at his chin with a little paw. Dean admitted that she was kind of cute.

"Sadie," he said.

"Sadie?" She raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that a Beatles song, _Sexy Sadie_?"

He grinned at her, he just loved how she knew just as much about old rock as he did; she'd caught on right away and without him having to explain.

"Yeah," he said. "It's perfect, don't you think so?" He said, holding the little cat up to his face and she meowed in response and butted her head against his nose. "Alright, you can stay, but don't even think about doing your business in my car," he warned.

Hermione laughed at him before it suddenly tapered off and her eyes darted down to his stomach. His own eyes followed and he winced upon seeing what she saw, a newly formed bruise that he'd gotten the night before.

"What the hell is that?" Hermione demanded to know, springing to her feet and watching him with a narrowed gaze, her hands coming up to her hips and her foot about ready to start tapping.

"You see... Well..."

"I'm waiting," she said, her tone not hiding her anger.

He winced once more and put the little cat down on the ground, allowing her chance to explore and Crookshanks followed after her. He turned his eyes to Sam, glaring at him upon seeing the amused and surprised expression on his face.

"We're working a case," he started.

"Obviously, I tracked you here a few hours ago. I told you to keep a lookout for me returning but you never noticed that I was only a few steps behind you, watching. We really need to work on your observational skills," she scolded. "But why are you injured?"

"We're dealing with a tulpa," he answered.

"A what? I've never heard of it," she frowned.

"Something I know that you don't," he teased and she scowled at him. He reached out and snagged her around the waist, tugging her onto his lap. "A Tibetan Spirit that is materialized through thought. You create a myth or legend and if enough people believe in it, it becomes real. That's what we're dealing with and since it's not a typical spirit, it's not afraid of our salt rounds."

She bit her lip in thought. "So if you find a way to change the legend and enough people believe in it, you can defeat it?"

Dean grinned at Sam smugly when he blinked slowly at her question.

"Exactly," he said, before turning to Sam. "She's _really_ smart," he said proudly.

"I can see that," Sam spoke before shaking his head. "We've already made changes to the website that contains the myth. We're going back to the house tonight to deal with it."

"You want me there?" She asked Dean.

"Maybe you should sit this one out, I know you've had a busy few weeks and you need your rest. We won't be gone long," he promised.

She nodded before summoning her bag and Sam let out a noise of surprise when she dug around inside and her arm disappeared up to her elbow, before pulling out some healing supplies which she plastered his stomach with whether he liked it or not.

"Did we not mention I'm technically a magical paramedic and nurse, too?" She asked Sam and he shook his head slowly. "Oh, well I am, and it comes in handy given our chosen profession, especially as magical healing is far more advanced than non-magical. Though I must say, this is the first time I've seen you injured like this since we started hunting together."

"Sammy's a little out of practice," Dean shrugged. "And I didn't have you to watch my back and that took some getting used to," he admitted.

"I'm sorry I had to go, Dean," she said, looking guilty.

"Don't be," he smiled at her and pulled her back onto his lap when she'd finished wiping the paste from her hands. "Your family needed you."

"But you needed me, too," she sighed.

"They needed you more," he said softly. "Besides," he muttered into her ear, "I've got my little brother back now."

"I'm glad you're talking again," she said quietly in response. "And I suppose they do say absence makes the heart grow fonder," she sighed.

He reached up and tugged on the silver chain that hung around her neck and had his ring attached to it.

"It suits you," he mumbled.

"Oh, I forgot," she said as she reached up to take it off.

"Keep it," he said.

She looked surprised but a smile pulled at her face and she hugged him tightly, making him chuckle and he placed a kiss to her shoulder. His laughter grew louder when he saw the look of disbelief on Sam's face.

She pulled back from him and dug around in her bag once more, this time pulling out a stack of papers and she handed them to him. He flicked through them curiously and was surprised to see they were children's drawings, some being scribbles and shapes and others looking like cars and houses.

"They're off James and Albus," Hermione said. "They practically demanded that I give them to you," she said amused.

He turned one of the pages over and written on the back in crayon was 'To Uncle Dean, Love James and Albus.' It was clear it had been done by a young child and they'd had help, too, as he could see the pencil marks beneath the crayon where someone else had written the message first. He felt strangely touched the kids had wanted him to have them.

"They said and I quote, 'when can we see Uncle Dean and will he take us out in his cool car again?" Hermione said. "Harry's a little put out they've taken to you so well as he wanted to hate you for a little while longer."

He snorted and shook his head. "As soon as we've found my dad we'll take some time away from hunting and we'll take them out again," he said and she grinned in response.

"Wait? You've met her family?" Sam spoke up in disbelief.

"Most of them," he said. "And her nephews think I'm awesome," he said smugly. Sam blinked slowly. "That's how I knew how to get through to that kid, Lucas."

"My parents are dead and my friend's family practically raised me once I discovered I was a witch. I've got one non-biological sister and seven non-biological brothers, but one of them died six years ago. Dean's met everyone but the parents, the wives of my brothers and two of my brothers as one lives in Romania and the other was at work and we'd only gone to London for a couple of days as my brother's wife went into labour."

"You hate flying," Sam frowned, looking at Dean.

"So do I," she told him, "We took magical travel, we arrived in London in under five minutes of travel time. Now, that's enough for now, is anyone hungry?"

Dean snorted. "When are you not hungry?"

"When I'm eating," she responded. "I'll head out and get something," she said, standing from his lap, grabbing her bag and she took her wand in her hand and spun on her heel, disappearing with a 'crack'.

Sam made a noise of surprise and jumped back, staring at the now empty spot in the room with wide eyes.

"She can teleport. Isn't she awesome?" He said proudly.

"My head hurts," Sam whispered.

"It's only gunna get worse, you don't know about her past or the war she fought in as a child."

"War?" He echoed.

"War, my girl's a War Heroine."

"I need some aspirin."

~000~000~000~

It hadn't been as easy to vanquish the tulpa-spirit as they thought it would be but they'd managed to do so without gaining any more injuries which would keep Hermione happy.

After returning to the motel they stepped into the room, Hermione's sleeping form coming into his view. The covers were pulled up to her waist and he could see she'd stolen one of his t-shirts as usual and both Crookshanks and Sadie were curled up close to each other and pressed in the crook of Hermione's bent legs.

After eating dinner they watched a bit of TV and Hermione had fallen asleep not long after, but he'd known she was exhausted, he'd seen it on her face despite her trying to hide it with her magic. He and Sam had left soon after but when they had she'd still been in her clothing so he knew she must've woken at some point and changed into her pyjamas before falling back asleep. He didn't know if she did have her own room or not, but he had no plans on moving her as he didn't wish to wake her or spend another night without her by his side now that she was back.

As Sam closed the door behind him and Dean shrugged off his leather jacket, Hermione's cries started and Dean wasted no time in kicking off his shoes and taking off his jeans, before climbing into bed behind Hermione and wrapping her up in his arms.

Her cries grew louder and the muttering of pleas started and Dean whispered _Hey Jude_ into her ear and ran his fingers over her stomach beneath her clothing, knowing from experience that it calmed her and it worked like a treat as she soon quieted down. Looking up, Dean saw Sam sitting on the end of his bed and watching him carefully in the darkness.

"What?" He muttered. "She's had a traumatic past and suffers with nightmares; it's the only thing that calms her."

"I still can't get over the fact you have a _girlfriend_ ," he responded, his eyes darting between them and the way Dean was holding Hermione tightly, _lovingly_. "And that she's a witch, magical or not."

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "You want to know about her past, it looks as though she's left out the book she gave me," he gestured to the table with a tilt of his head. "Everything you need to know is in there and don't question her about it, she doesn't like talking about it."

"But you know,"

"Everything I know she told me willingly. I earned her trust. And I'm going to give you a few warnings."

"Alright," Sam frowned slightly. "And they are?"

"Don't _ever_ touch her food; I've never met someone who eats as much as her." Sam looked to him pointedly and Dean could understand why, he _did_ eat a lot of food, but Hermione outshone him in that regard. "She eats more than I do, and don't call her fat or even think it for that matter, I'm convinced she can read minds," he muttered.

"Okay,"

"Don't underestimate her," Dean said. "She may seem small and weak but she's far from it. She's got one hell of a right hook and her magic certainly packs a punch, too. Those things she showed you earlier are things she'd do to entertain her nieces and nephews but when she's working a case, she's fearless and she's deadly. I've seen her take a vampire's head clean off with a single wave of her wand, I've seen her throw shape-shifters halfway across a warehouse and I've seen her deflect dozens of knives and weapons. Put it this way, I'm glad she's on our side as I'd hate to go up against her."

"Don't pick a fight with her, got it," Sam cleared his throat.

"If you see her reaching for her wand or her behaviour just seems off, be ready. Her magic helps her to sense when something's wrong and the majority of the time it's because there's a supernatural being nearby. And you should probably keep your laptop away from her, too."

"Why?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Technology seems to get frazzled when she's around. Her magic either renders it useless or it explodes, I learned that the hard way," he replied, just thinking about the mess they'd left in the library all those months ago.

"Keep my laptop away from her," Sam nodded. "Anything else?"

"If she's driving, don't fall asleep," he warned.

"You let her drive the Impala?" Sam questioned, his surprise evident.

"She loves that car more than I do, in fact, you should've seen the fit she had when it was covered in mud and I refused to stop at a car wash."

Sam shook his head. "And why can't I fall asleep?"

"She sometimes forgets we drive on the right, not the left. I nearly had a heart attack when I woke to see her driving in the wrong lane."

Sam let out a snort. "No napping in the car if she's driving," he nodded. "Is that it?"

"Just one more thing. Dad, she doesn't like him."

Sam blinked in surprise. "She's met him?" He said, his voice rising slightly and Dean sent him an annoyed look when Hermione shifted in her sleep.

"No, but Bobby never kept his opinions about dad to himself, especially when Hermione was around. After what she's learned from Bobby and what I've told her about him, she _really_ doesn't like him. If you hear her referring to someone as 'asshole', she means dad. She plans on breaking his nose upon their first meeting."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "And will she?"

"No, she'll probably break his nose _and_ his jaw," he said and despite knowing he really shouldn't find it funny, he couldn't stop his mouth from twitching into an amused smile as he looked down at her sleeping face.

"I think that's sealed the deal, I like her," Sam commented.

Dean snorted at him. "Thought you might, she's a lot like you in the sense she's smart and she prefers the research side of working a case. You're going to have to earn her trust. She said something happened, the reason she moved over here is that her last partner really messed her up, he veered from their plan and got himself killed as well as the victims that were being held as hostages and she blames herself for their deaths. She always has a plan of action and she hates walking into situations blindly. She's very cautious and won't let me enter a building until she's done a perimeter search beforehand."

Dean looked away from Sam and down to Hermione, seeing the way her mouth twitched and her eyes moved beneath her eyelids, making him curious as to what she was dreaming of. A sigh sounded from her and she turned in his arms to face him, jostling both Crookshanks and Sadie but neither of them woke. Her face buried in his chest and her hand came up to grip the fabric of his t-shirt and unable to stop himself, he placed a kiss to her forehead, being more than aware that Sam's eyes were on him.

"Can I ask you a question?" Dean asked.

"What?" Sam asked cautiously as he bent over to remove his shoes.

"How did you know you loved Jess?"

Sam suffered a coughing fit and Dean sent him a murderous glare as Hermione made a noise in her sleep and shifted.

"Sorry," he said, patting himself on the chest and reaching for the bottle of water on the bedside table that separated their beds. "I just wasn't expecting that question."

"Forget it," Dean muttered.

"No, I won't. You want to know so I'll answer. Jess, she wasn't embarrassed by me or ashamed of me. She didn't hide herself away from me, she let me see her flaws, she let me see her weakness and vulnerabilities. I've seen her at her worst and at her best and she allowed me to. She didn't keep secrets from me. She made me laugh, she made me feel normal. She believed in me and she made me happy. I knew I loved her because I couldn't see her not being a part of my life."

Dean made a humming sound and reached up to brush a curl back from Hermione's face and she shifted into his touch. Even in her sleep she sought him out and wanted to be with him, to be touched by him.

"Do you love her?" Sam asked curiously.

"She means the world to me," Dean muttered. "And if anyone ever lays a finger on her, I'll not only kill them, I'll make sure they suffer first."

~000~000~000~

Dean woke to the sound of purring and he felt soft fur and a lightweight being on his forehead. Frowning slightly, he looked up and tilted his head, only to see his new pet, Sadie, being asleep on his pillow with her head and front paws resting against his forehead, but he also felt a heavyweight on his legs; knowing it to be Crookshanks he rolled his eyes, barely stopping himself from snorting.

He brought his hands up to rub at his face, realising that Hermione wasn't beside him and he was alone in bed. He looked towards the bathroom, seeing the door being closed but he could see the light peaking from beneath it. He was careful not to hurt his new little pet as he shuffled from beneath her and sat up in bed, looking to the clock.

While it was still early, he'd certainly slept longer than he had been for the last few weeks and he knew it was because he had Hermione back. Looking to Sam asleep in bed, Dean knew he wouldn't be awake for a while yet so he shifted out from beneath Crookshanks, climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

He stepped inside to the sound of the shower running and seeing Hermione's figure from behind the shower curtain. A smile tugging at his mouth, he quickly removed his t-shirt and underwear and stepped in behind her, a sigh leaving her when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him.

"I really did miss you," Dean muttered.

"I missed you, too," she promised, her hands coming up to hold onto his arms. "So, would you care to explain what I've missed in the few weeks I've been gone?"

"I found out my dad hadn't been to any of the safe houses and no one had heard from him so I went to Sammy. I convinced him to help me look for him and it was only supposed to be for a few days."

"But?" She said knowingly.

"I had every intention of dropping him at Stanford and leaving him to his life, but when we got there, his girlfriend was murdered in front of him and by the same demon that killed our mom."

"Merlin," she gasped, turning around his arms to face him. "That's awful. How's he doing?"

"I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "He seems too calm about it all so I don't know if he's dealing or just bottling it all up."

She bit at her lip and her eyes darted away from his in thought.

"What is it?"

"Maybe we shouldn't flaunt our relationship in front of him," she said. "Not after what he's been through."

"I have no intention of acting as though I'm ashamed of you, Hermione. We shouldn't have to hide away so we don't upset Sammy. If he feels uncomfortable and awkward, he'll tell me and we can do something about it then, but from what I've seen and heard so far, he's not bothered by our relationship, if anything I think he's more surprised that I have a girlfriend than he is about you being a witch."

She laughed at him and shook her head. "So, what cases have I missed?"

"Not many to be honest, I found my dad's journal and we've been using it to track him. We've had a couple vengeful spirits, a wendigo..."

"Thank Merlin I missed that one, wendigos freak me the hell out," she shivered and he snorted.

"Our last case had us dealing with a phantom that killed people on flights."

"I take it back, I'd prefer the wendigo over a plane," she said and he chuckled. "You got on a plane?"

"Not by choice," he replied.

"I'm proud of you; you faced your fear to help protect others."

"It wasn't easy,"

"Facing your fears never is but you still did it," she said, her hand coming up to fiddle with the little otter that rested against his chest.

"I could feel you," he said. "It was like you were here, but you weren't at the same time. I could feel your magic, your presence."

"That's why I gave it to you, so you wouldn't feel alone. I know you've gotten used to me being with you and it would've taken some time for you to adjust. It's also how I tracked you, I locked onto my magic inside the necklace and it led me straight to you."

"How was your time in London?"

She sighed and her head fell forward to press against his chest. "I've never seen him like that, Dean. They kept him in a coma for a week, the curse he'd been hit with was something we'd never seen before and it attacked his organs, his cells, shutting them all down. It took both myself and Bill to identify it, but there was no cure so we had to make one ourselves. It took a few days to do that and Harry was released but put on bed rest. I've barely slept whilst being away and I was staying awake purely due to the Invigoration Draughts I've been ingesting. Between the research and the worrying and the looking after Ginny and the kids..." She sighed and he held her tighter. "When I did have a moment of peace to myself, I couldn't sleep, not only due to you not being with me but because I was worrying about you being on your own."

"I wasn't alone,"

"I didn't know that," she shrugged. "I wasn't expecting you to reconcile with your brother, but I'm glad you did and he's back in your life, even if it is due to terrible circumstances. I know how much you missed him."

"Go easy on him, I don't want him fainting at the sight of you being all angry and terrifying when someone tries to kill you."

"Can't promise that," she said amused.

"And let him win at poker, at least the first few times before you start cheating."

"Can't promise that either."

~000~000~000~

Dean had barely shut the car door behind him when Hermione's feet found purchase on his lap and he looked to her amused. She just shrugged her shoulders and ran her hands through the fur of the ginger cat sat in her lap and the little white cat that sat on her chest, batting at her chin with its paw in playful affection.

"You ready, Sammy?" Dean asked, looking behind him to where Sam sat in the back seat and he hadn't complained he'd been demoted either. Dean wouldn't have cared if he did. The seat beside him would always be for Hermione, having her by his side was where she belonged.

"For what?"

"For working your first case with Hermione."

"Why would I need to be ready for that?" He questioned confused.

He and Hermione shared an amused looked before he turned back to Sam, a smirk pulling at his mouth.

"You'll see," was all he said before switching on the ignition. "You wanna do the honours, Baby?" He asked Hermione.

She nodded and removed her wand from her boot, whispering a ' _Point Me'_ before it levitated off her palm, spun in circles and came to a stop, pointing in the direction they needed to go. Dean looked to Sam, seeing his eyes were wide and focused on the gently bobbing wand.

"Our own personal navigator," he shrugged, before turning back around. "Good luck, Sammy, you're going to need it," Dean said, before pulling away from the curb and moving off down the road.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 26

**Three weeks later...**

"So, how long until we wash this off?"

"Usually around ten minutes after application," Hermione replied, her fingers smoothing over his forehead as she applied the last of the face mask to his skin.

She'd already done hers before convincing him to participate in her little pampering session, too. And while he did put up a fight at first, he'd soon give in when she'd promised to give him a head massage whilst they waited for the strawberry smelling face mask to do its job.

She reached over to wipe her hands clean before she brought them up to his temples, rubbing in gentle circles and applying a small amount of pressure. He sighed and brought his hands up, clasping them together and resting them against his stomach while he lay across the bed with his head in Hermione's lap, the sound of the TV quietly filling the background.

Three weeks went quickly for Dean and while he may have been a little worried about how Sam would cope with Hermione and her constant use of magic, he had no reason to worry at all. In fact, Dean thought that Sam had taken it better than he had and within only an hour of leaving their motel to head off for their first case, Sam's questions had soon begun and Dean had to give it to Hermione; she had the patience of a saint when it came to his brother and his infinite amount of questions about magic and her world. The only time he seemed to give her peace was when they were actively in the middle of a fight and when she was sleeping.

And when it came to seeing Hermione in a fight, she had both frightened and amazed him and Dean knew that feeling all too well. It had taken barely any time at all for Sam to trust Hermione, but he wasn't sure if that was because of the way Sam had seen her interact and care for him, or if it was because she had both his and Bobby's approval, either way, it didn't matter to Dean and he was happy to see his brother and girlfriend getting along.

And Dean had noticed a change in Sam since he'd met Hermione. He wasn't quite sure what it was exactly, but he'd say that Sam seemed...Just lighter, less burdened. He knew that he and Hermione often disappeared on walks together and when they returned Sam always seemed a little bit happier each time. If there was anyone that could get through to Sam and help him it was Hermione, after all, she was an expert on dealing with grief after the losses she'd suffered during the war and after losing her partner, and while she hadn't loved her partner the way Sam had loved Jess, she still knew the pain of such loss.

If the circumstances were different Dean would've thought there was something going on between the two of them but he knew without a doubt that not only would Hermione and Sam never do that to him, but that Sam saw Hermione as a sister and friend, and Dean knew, too. Sam had made more than one sneaky comment over the weeks about his relationship with Hermione and where their future was headed but Dean being happy to live in the present, just ignored him.

"You know, your father's really starting to piss me off," Hermione spoke, her fingers slipping through his hair and massaging at his scalp.

"Hmmm?" Dean hummed, feeling far too relaxed to even reply.

"If we don't find him soon or he doesn't get in contact with you, I'm calling in some favours with some old friends of mine and they'll haul his arse in and throw him in a cell. At least then he can't escape when I unleash my anger on him."

He snorted. "A few more weeks and if we've still got nothing, I'll give you the green light to do just that, serves him right anyway."

"Serves who right?"

Dean lifted his head towards the door, seeing Sam step in with a plastic bag containing their dinner and a crate of beer under his arm. Sam shut the door behind him and when he turned around, he faltered in his steps, his eyes widening and darting between him and Hermione.

"I've seen it all now," he muttered.

Dean refused to be embarrassed about wearing a pink face mask that smelled like strawberries. The clay mask Hermione had been putting on him once a week was doing wonders for his skin and he assumed the face mask would do the same and if not, he still made Hermione happy and got a head massage out of it, it was a win-win situation.

"Hey, Sammy," Hermione smiled at his brother. "I've got another one if you want to give it a go."

"No thanks," Sam replied, looking to Dean amused now that the shock had worn off and he placed the bag and beer down onto the table, removed his jacket and hooked it over one of the chairs.

Dean didn't particularly like sharing a room with his brother, beforehand it hadn't mattered because Hermione had been away but when all three of them had officially started hunting together, Dean made it a point to get two separate rooms, one for Sam and the other for himself and Hermione, as well as the two cats that seemed to follow them wherever they went, but this time they were forced to share.

Crookshanks had taken to Sam fairly well though it was clear he much preferred Dean, but when in the car and Sam was in the back seat with the two fur-balls, Crookshanks would lay on his back and stare at Sam until he rubbed his stomach and Sadie would curl up in a ball next to Crookshanks or play with his bushy tail.

"You sure? It'll rehydrate your skin better than any moisturiser."

He snorted, looking to Dean once more before shaking his head. "I'll pass, thanks. Besides, I got food."

Dean snorted when Hermione lifted his head off her lap, climbed out from beneath him and dropped his head onto the mattress before darting off the bed and to the bathroom. Luckily, he'd seen it coming and moved his hands behind his head to cushion it before it hit the mattress.

"What?" Dean asked his brother, seeing Hermione moving into the bathroom to wash the face mask off before dinner.

Sam's mouth pulled into a smile. "You're so whipped."

"I'm not," Dean denied, pushing himself up until he was sitting up with his feet planted on the ground.

"You so are,"

"I'm not," Dean argued.

"Tell that to your face," Sam said, chuckles breaking through.

"Bitch!"

"Jerk!"

"You're just jealous you're not as pretty as me," Dean fired back and Sam burst into laughter, nearly tripping over the chair as he pulled it out from beneath the table.

"Dean, you need to wash it off," Hermione called from the bathroom and Dean stood from the bed and headed for the door, hearing Sam making a whipping sound effect from behind him.

Dean turned to glare at him over his shoulder. "She promised me a head massage," he said. "And trust me; I haven't had a headache since we started dating because of it."

"What's got him wetting himself?" Hermione asked as he stepped into the bathroom and she held a cloth up to his face in a gesture for him to stand in front of her.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he replied, her hand reaching up to hold his chin and keep his head still while the other wiped his face clean with the cloth.

"You're practically glowing," she complimented, after pulling back from him and dropping the face cloth into the sink and Dean stood taller at her words and looked to himself in the mirror above the sink. "Alright, I'm starving," she said as she stepped around him and left the bathroom.

He followed after her, stepping back into the room to see that Sam was sat at the table and when he looked to him, he started chuckling again. Hermione took the seat opposite Sam and she conjured up another one for him and he sat beside her, reaching for his own food and accepting a beer when she held one out to him.

"I picked up a newspaper," Sam said.

"And?" Dean raised an eyebrow, pulling his food closer to him when he saw Hermione eyeing it despite the fact she was currently eating her own.

"I know we're meant to be searching for dad," Sam said and Dean heard Hermione mutter 'arsehole,' beneath her breath. "But there's been a strange death in a town not far from here."

"And?" He repeated. "A single death isn't suspicious."

"Maybe not, but the victim was said to have died whilst looking in a bathroom mirror and was found by the eldest daughter, apparently it was quite gruesome. The funeral's tomorrow and if we leave in the morning we can get to the morgue before heading to the house to check things out. If it's nothing to worry about then we were passing through anyway, if there is, we take care of it and continue on our search for dad."

"Arsehole," Hermione muttered once more and he and Sam shared an amused look.

"What do you think?" Dean asked, turning to look at Hermione.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Could be suspicious, could not, but in my experience, it doesn't hurt to have a look and as Sam said, we're passing through anyway."

"Alright, we'll check it out. We'll head out after breakfast."

~000~000~000~

"That was disgusting," Hermione grimaced as she and Sam stepped out of the morgue to see Dean waiting for them by the Impala.

"Really?" He asked.

"Unfortunately," Sam agreed. "The COD is unclear but the skull was full of blood and his eyes had been liquidated."

"Alright, that's definitely weird," Dean said. "The wake started half an hour ago, if we head over now we should get there before the guests start leaving."

They all climbed into the Impala and made the short journey to the victims' house, before stepping out of the car and heading through the open door and out into the garden where the guests were milling around and chatting between their little groups.

"Right, you head into the house and see what you can find and I'll stay out here and talk to some of these people and see what I can get out of them," Hermione spoke. "If you get caught you have a better chance of charming your way out of it than I do," she said, looking to him and Sam snorted.

"Be careful," he warned.

"I'm always careful, you're the one that gets injured when I'm not around," she replied.

Sam snorted once more and Dean made to respond but Sam's hand clamped down on his shoulder until he spun him around and pushed him back towards the house. They were quick to climb the stairs and soon found the bathroom in which the victim had died in and they climbed under the crime scene tape and looked at the bloodstain on the ground, their eyes searching their surroundings for clues.

"We should probably get Hermione up here," Dean mused.

"She does have a knack for finding things we don't," Sam agreed.

"It's her magic, she said the supernatural has no power over true born magic and therefore she can sense things that others won't be able to, just like Crookshanks and Sadie."

"What are you doing up here?"

They both turned around to see a pretty blonde teenage girl stood by the door and they looked to each other, hoping she hadn't heard what they'd just been discussing because if she had, Hermione would be pissed and they both winced at the thought of Hermione being mad at them.

"I know you're not guests; I've never seen you before. So what are you doing and how did you get in?"

Dean flashed her his most charming smile, the one that worked on everyone but Hermione and he saw the girl's body relax slightly in response.

"We're investigating, of course," he said.

"You're police officers?" She frowned.

"Not exactly," Sam said. "Look, we're going to be honest with you, what happened here, we think it's suspicious and we're looking into it. But right now I think we've seen all we need to so we better go. But if you know anything that may help us with our investigation, please give us a call," he said, pulling a business card out of his pocket and handing it to the young woman. She eyed them both carefully before nodding and stepping aside to let them past.

"That was a close one," Sam muttered as they descended the stairs with the young woman following behind them to make sure they left.

"We don't tell Hermione about nearly letting the kneazle out of the bag," Dean mumbled in response, before putting a smile on his face as he stepped out of the house and into the garden.

Hermione seeing him approaching, politely excused herself from the conversation she'd been having with an old man and she crossed the garden, her hand slipping into his when he held it out to her, before he dragged her back through the house and towards the Impala.

"Learn anything?" He asked.

"Yes actually, it seems the children blame themselves," she said, climbing into the car and turning to face him as he got into the driver's side and Sam leaned forward from his place in the back seat.

"What'd you mean?" Sam asked confused.

"Well, I was able to get the younger girls alone and they think it's their fault the father died. Apparently, on the night of his death, Lilly had a sleepover and she was dared to stand in front of the mirror and say 'Bloody Mary' three times. He was found dead the next morning and in front of the very same mirror."

"You're kidding me, right?" Dean asked. "Bloody Mary?"

She shrugged her shoulders in response but Sam said, "You never know, Dean. Bloody Mary is a myth and we know that some myths are born from truth."

"It doesn't hurt to keep an open mind," Hermione added. "But right now, I'm hungry. What shall we have for dinner?"

Sam rolled his eyes and Dean shook his head.

~000~000~000~

"Are you sure you can get us in?"

"Have you forgotten who you're talking to?" Hermione responded, looking over her shoulder at Sam with a raised eyebrow.

"Fair enough," he replied amused.

Hermione pointed her wand at the door handle and muttered beneath her breath before a 'click' was heard. Dean reached out and tried the door, it swinging open after giving it a little nudge. Hermione sent Sam a smug look before stepping into the house and following the directions they'd been given by Charlie, the young woman they'd met yesterday.

Sam had received a phone call in the early hours of the morning from the teenager, explaining the conversation she'd had with her friend and that very morning, she'd been found dead after saying 'Bloody Mary' in front of a mirror. Dean didn't believe in coincidences and whilst the first time he'd been sceptical, this time he was suspicious.

They'd waited until the crime scene crew had left before breaking into the house and heading for the girl's bedroom where she'd died. The moment they stepped through the door, their eyes taking in the otherwise clean bedroom except for the blood, Hermione stopped suddenly, her wand being gripped in her hand tightly.

"What is it?" He asked her.

A frown settled on her face and she took in the room with wary eyes, slowly taking a step forward.

"Something doesn't feel right," she muttered and they stood back and let her do her thing.

Since meeting her, hunting had become a lot easier; not only because they had her magic, expertise and healing on their side, but because she was a walking, talking supernatural detector and they hadn't bothered with the need for EMF readers and the like.

She came to a stop in front of the mirror, slowly reaching out with a cautious hand to touch the surface and she pulled it away and back to herself as if she'd been stung.

"This mirror, there's something not right about it. I don't know what it is, but it almost feels as if it's surrounded by a strange energy field and if you boys were to get your supernatural gear on it, I reckon it'd show you the same thing. I'm convinced this is a supernatural killing. How? I'm not sure yet."

She reached out for the mirror once more, going for the sides rather than the surface and she pulled it forward, peering over the top and looking down at the back before turning it around for them to see. The name "Gary Bryman" was written on the back in what looked to be blood.

"What would you boys like to bet this name has something to do with Jill's death?"

"I'm never betting against you again," Sam said, sticking his hands in his pockets and Dean smirked at him.

Sam had soon learned just how good a cheat Hermione was at poker but it had taken him losing two hundred dollars, his watch, his right to choose where they ate for a month and his cell phone. Thankfully, -to stop him from crying- Hermione had given him all of his things back but he was still banned from choosing where they ate, especially after he had taken them to a vegan place. Hermione still hasn't forgiven him.

"I don't think we're going to find anything else, so we should probably see what we can find out about this name. But if we've found a name here, do you think there may be one at Shoemaker's house?"

"It's possible," Dean replied. "We wanted to get you in the bathroom to do your witchy thing but we were caught before we had the chance."

She nodded and put the mirror back where she found it. "I'll apparate over to the house, sneak inside and do a quick check and I'll meet you in the Impala. You boys should get out of here in case someone comes back."

Hermione spun on her heel and disappeared with a 'crack.' Sam, still not being used to seeing her do that, blinked before shaking his head and he headed for the stairs with Dean following behind him. They'd barely climbed into the car when Hermione reappeared in the passenger's side, making them both jump in surprise.

"Name?" Dean asked.

"There's a name on the back, too. Linda Shoemaker."

"Isn't that the wife that died?" Sam asked.

"Yes, from what I learned at the wake, she died of a pill overdose," she nodded. "But I still think we need to do a bit of digging."

"We'll head back to the motel and I can do some research online."

"We're stopping for lunch though, right?"

~000~000~000~

Sam sat at the table in Dean and Hermione's room, typing away on his laptop while Dean lay sprawled out on the bed, flicking through the TV channels with Crookshanks curled up in his lap and Sadie looking like a little white ball of fluff as she slept on his chest. Hermione was sat beside him, not paying attention to anyone or thing but the sandwich she was eating, despite her having eaten a double cheeseburger, fries and onion rings at the diner they'd stopped at for lunch not long before.

Life with Hermione was easy and that's one of the reasons he cared for her so much. Aside from the fact he was genuinely happier since meeting her, and that she took care of him and made him feel as though he mattered, being with her was just easy. There was no drama or tension or awkwardness, and it was easy to keep her happy. All he had to do was feed her, make sure she slept and that he gave her cuddles, much like with Crookshanks and Sadie, but Dean was smart enough never to voice those thoughts lest he get hexed for even daring to compare her to their pets, no matter how accurate a comparison it was.

"I think I've found what we're looking for," Sam spoke, drawing their attention.

"What've you got?" Dean asked.

"Well, Gary Bryman is a young boy that was the victim of a hit and run. A suspect was never found or arrested and the case went unsolved."

"And what does that have to do with Jill?"

"There was a description of the car thought to be involved and after doing a little digging, I've found the description matches her car perfectly."

Dean and Hermione shared a look before turning to Sam. "That's interesting," he mused. "What about the wife?"

"Although her case was closed, there were some that thought her death was suspicious and out of character and some believed the husband was involved."

"He killed her?" Hermione said.

"There's no evidence either way," he shrugged.

"And Jill killed the kid," Dean mused. "So both victims were guilty or had a death on their conscience."

"This is sounding like a vengeful spirit," Sam added.

"I guess you were right after all," Dean said. "Have there been any violent deaths in the last few decades?"

"Already one step ahead of you. Mary Worthington from Indiana, but I can't find much about the case. I did, however, find the number of the lead detective on the case and he still lives in Indiana."

"If you can pull me up an image of the detective's house or the police station, I can apparate us over there and save us the drive and be back in time for dinner," Hermione said.

"I hate teleporting," Dean muttered.

"Stop being a baby," she rolled her eyes and Sam sniggered at them, Dean sending him a glare in response.

~000~000~000~

"What do you have?" Sam asked when Hermione and Dean stepped into the room after being gone an hour.

"Mary was murdered at the age of nineteen, when someone broke into her apartment and cut her eyes out with a knife," Hermione said.

"That explains the liquidation of the eyes," he injected.

"Before she died, in front of a mirror might I add, she tried to spell out her killer's name but only managed the first three letters. A surgeon was suspected but was never proven to be guilty and the case went unsolved."

"And she was cremated," Dean added.

"Great," Sam sighed, pushing a hand through his hair and sitting back in his chair.

"But we think she's attached herself to the mirror which she died in front of. It makes sense if you think about it, seeing as the victims are dying in front of mirrors, too. She's using the mirrors as a portal when summoned," Hermione said. "That's the energy field I can feel around them."

"So we need to find this mirror," Sam said.

"Already have," Dean said, smiling smugly as he laid out on the bed, his hand coming up to scratch Sadie behind the ears when she meowed and moved over to him, butting her head against his cheek. "It was recently sold to a store in Toledo."

"It's shut today but I can easily get us in, but we may have to drive it as Dean couldn't find an image online for me to use as a guide," Hermione spoke, moving to sit beside him on the bed and petting Crookshanks when he moved to sit on her lap.

Sam made to speak when he was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone and he answered it, a frown pulling at his face before his eyes widened.

"We'll be right over, but don't move and stay away from any reflective surfaces," Sam spoke and he and Hermione looked to each other in confusion as Sam ended the call. "That was Charlie; her friend was messing about in the bathroom whilst in school."

Hermione sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "The stupid bint said it three times, didn't she?"

"Right in one," he nodded, standing from his chair and grabbing his coat. "Charlie saw her dead ex-boyfriend in the mirror."

"She's a target," Dean said, also standing up after picking Sadie up from his chest and putting her down.

"She's at her house now waiting for us, so we better be quick just in case."

"We'll have to drive, we don't have time to go searching for an image for me to use as a guide," Hermione spoke, making sure she had her wand tucked beneath the sleeve of her jacket.

~000~000~000~

"We need to summon her," Sam said from the back seat of the Impala.

After heading over to Charlie's, it had taken Hermione nearly twenty minutes to calm the frightened teen before they'd covered every mirror and reflective surface possible and told her not to leave her house, and soon after they left for Toledo.

"That's easy enough," Hermione said, as they neared their intended destination. "But she'll only come for someone that is associated with death and keeping secrets. I can do it."

"Over my dead body," Dean said instantly. "What happened to your partner wasn't your fault and it's not a secret as you've told me, Bobby and everyone back in your world knows about his death and the circumstances surrounding it. You may feel guilt but it's not your fault," he told her honestly, his eyes catching Sam's in the rearview mirror and conveying that those words were meant for him, too. Dean knew Sam blamed himself for Jess' death, just as Hermione blamed herself for her partner's. "And killing people in self-defence during a war doesn't count, either."

"Can you do it?" She asked him with a raised eyebrow despite already knowing the answer and he pursed his lips, knowing she was right.

"I'll do it," Sam said.

"It wasn't your fault," both he and Hermione said together and without blinking, or looking back at him, too. Sam stared in surprise at the action.

"And you're not keeping secrets," Dean said.

"You don't know everything," Sam muttered beneath his breath.

"I better," Hermione responded, giving him a narrowed gaze as she looked at him over her shoulder and he sank bank into the seat, amusing Dean.

"We don't have time to argue, we're here and we need to do this. We can't risk Charlie getting hurt, or anyone else for that matter."

They climbed out of the car and made their way to the store, Hermione easily getting them through the front door and rendering the security alarms useless, allowing them time to get in, do what they have to do and get back out.

"I've got it," Hermione called from across the back of the store, seeing as they'd split up to better search the large selection of mirrors that were stored out the back.

He and Sam crossed over to her, coming to a stop in front of the large, ornate mirror and staring at it cautiously. Before Dean had the chance to stop him, Sam spoke "Bloody Mary" aloud three times and everything seemed to happen so fast afterwards.

He didn't know what had happened, but Sam had dropped onto his knees and blood poured from his eyes as he yelled in agony. Hermione was beside him, trying to calm him, to reason with him and help him understand that Jess' death wasn't his fault and whilst she did that, he smashed the mirror with the butt of his gun, hoping that by destroying it, it would take care of the spirit, too. Unfortunately, things only got worse.

In a surprise move that no one was expecting, a ghostly woman stepped out from the frame and headed straight for Sam. Dean tried to stop her but he was thrown across the room, landing on his back and when he pushed himself up, he saw Hermione trying to fight off the vengeful spirit but she was thrown across the room, too, her back hitting against a wall and catching a mirror with her foot, it shattering beneath the force.

Dean smashed a second mirror to try and distract the vengeful spirit and instead, she turned her attention to him. He felt pain shoot through him and muffled his shouts of pain by clamping his mouth shut, feeling warm liquid running down his face and he aimed his gun, firing off several rounds that passed through the spirit. She reappeared behind him and he fell to the ground, dropping his gun and clamping his hands over his eyes.

The sound of another shattering mirror was briefly heard and he felt Hermione's presence, her brushing past him and standing before him and the pain suddenly stopped. Slowly, he brought his hands down from his eyes, blinking until blood was no longer clouding his vision and it was to see Hermione stood with a mirror in her hand and the spirit was staring at it silently, her head tilted to the side in confusion.

"You killed all those people," Hermione said aloud.

Dean's hands clamped over his ears when a deafening, high pitched shriek rang out, smashing every single mirror in the room and then the spirit was gone.

Hermione dropped the already broken mirror to the ground and she spun to face him, kneeling down in front of him and taking his face in her hands, her eyes searching him worriedly.

"I'm fine," he muttered. She ignored him and brought her wand up to his face, muttering beneath her breath. "That was good thinking with the mirror."

"She's responsible for countless deaths, I turned her vengeance on herself because she was guilty and that caused her to self destroy," she replied. "There's no damage but your vision may be a bit blurred for a few hours, it's best I drive back to the motel."

She waved her wand over him and he felt the warm liquid no longer running down his face, before she stood and moved over to Sam, helping him to sit up and taking his head in her hands, giving him the once over, too.

"You seem to have suffered a little more than Dean. You'll probably have a headache for a little while and blurred vision is normal, as is potential colour blindness but it should all be over by the morning," she said to him.

She helped him to stand and they all looked about the room, seeing a hundred or so mirrors and every single one of them was broken.

"How many years bad luck is this?" Dean asked.

"Around fourteen hundred, give or take a few years," Hermione responded.

"Well, there's three of us so we'll split it," he replied.

She snorted at him before brushing her hair back from her face. "Let's get out of here, I'm good but even I can't repair all of the damage we've done, so I'll wipe all traces of us being here and we can head back and let Charlie know she's safe."

As Hermione walked away from them and busied herself with ensuring no one would be able to connect them to the break-in or the damages, he turned to Sam.

"It's wasn't your fault she died. And if you are keeping things from me, that's fine, but don't keep them from Hermione. She has a habit of finding things out and she can't help you if you're holding things back." Dean told him, before heading for the door when Hermione called across the room to let them know she was finished.

~000~000~000~

"I've never felt more relaxed," Sam sighed, laying on his back on the bed in Dean and Hermione's motel room, his arms cushioning the back of his head and his eyes were closed.

Dean lay on the opposite side of him, an arm behind his head and the other scratching behind the ears of the purring fluff-ball that lay on his chest, whilst Crookshanks was curled up by his feet, apparently watching the TV.

"Bitch," Dean muttered beneath his breath.

He stole a glance at his little brother, seeing his face being covered in the pink, strawberry smelling face mask he was also currently sporting; only Sam had cucumber slices covering his eyes, too.

"I heard that," Sam said calmly and sounding tired, and Dean suspected he would doze off any minute now.

"Sammy! Time to wash it off," Hermione called.

"I don't want to," Sam all but whined.

"It'll harden and be a nightmare to get off if you leave it on for too long. I've already given you an extra ten minutes over the recommended setting time. You need to wash it off, so get your arse in here."

Sam grumbled beneath his breath before sighing and Dean felt the mattress shift as he climbed off the bed and headed for the bathroom, removing the cucumber slices from his eyes and popping them into his mouth as he did so.

"Who's whipped now?" Dean muttered.

~000~000~000~

**Two weeks later...**

"I'm worried about, Sam," Hermione said softly as she pulled back the covers of the blanket, climbed into bed and snuggled up against him, his arm automatically moving to wrap around her.

"You and me both," he replied, turning his eyes from the TV in their motel room to look down at her. "I noticed a change in him a few weeks ago and he seemed to be getting better. I don't know what you were doing or talking to him about, but it seemed to be working. But since that Bloody Mary case, he's hit a roadblock."

"I've been trying to get him to open up to me, more than he has of course, but still, he always just brushed off my concerns and told me he was fine."

"I know you, you're leaving something out. What is it?"

She sighed before pushing herself up onto her elbow and looking down at him in the dimly lit room.

"I did something, I'm not proud of it but I didn't see any other way around it. And I hope you can forgive me."

He frowned, pushing himself up until his back hit the wall and she sat up, too, facing him. "What did you do?"

"He wouldn't talk to me and I can't stand the sight of him suffering when I can help him. I just needed him to relax, to trust me and tell me what he's been keeping from us. I slipped him a Calming Draught when we went to a coffee shop during our walk."

Dean's eyes traced her face, seeing her guilty expression. He honestly wasn't sure how to feel about that. On one hand, what she'd done had technically broken his and Sam's trust, but on the other hand, he knew she hadn't meant Sam any harm and she only wanted to help. He'd taken some of her calming potions before and knew that they didn't cause any pain or harm, they didn't even affect the way you thought or behaved, they just helped you to relax and sleep, they helped to ease your worries and fears.

Because he'd experienced what it was like to be under the influence of her calming potions, he knew that Sam wouldn't have told Hermione anything he didn't want to. The potion would've just lowered his inhibitions, allowing him to speak freely and without fear. Hermione hadn't forced Sam to speak with her; she'd just given him a little nudge and helped him to feel safe enough to open up to her. And after realising that fact, Dean couldn't feel betrayed, angry or disappointed.

"I'm not mad and you don't have my forgiveness because you don't need it. I know what it's like to be under your magical calmers and if Sam absolutely didn't want to tell you anything, then he wouldn't have," he said. She released a huge breath and her tense body relaxed. "What's he been keeping from us?"

She bit her lip as if trying to decide if she should tell him or not, and her eyes darted towards the wall opposite them of which Sam's room was on the other side of.

"He blames himself for Jess' death."

"I know that, but no matter how many times we tell him it wasn't his fault he doesn't listen."

"But I know _why_ he blames himself," she responded and he looked to her questioningly. "Don't tell him I told you, not yet at least, but he's told me he'd been having strange dreams a few days before Jess died, and in those dreams, he witnessed her death. The dream was repetitive and when she did die, it happened exactly how he'd dreamt it, just like your mother."

Dean frowned in confusion. "You're saying he knew she was going to die?"

"No, I'm saying he had a dream which scared the hell out of him and happened to come true. He didn't know she was going to die, he just thought it was a nightmare. But because he'd dreamt it, he blames himself because he thinks he could've prevented it from happening."

"Shit," Dean muttered, his hand reaching out to grip onto Hermione's, a sudden feeling of protectiveness and worry washing over him.

"Exactly," she said. "I'm worried about him because I think there's something not quite right, but I can't put my finger on it."

"What?"

"I don't want to worry you, but what Sam described to me, it's known as prophetic dreams. There are some magical folk that have Seer abilities but only a handful of them actually have visions of potential future outcomes during sleep, and an even smaller amount have visions whilst awake but this is due to power progression. What Sam did, it shouldn't be possible for a muggle."

"Are you saying he's not human?" He asked, his eyes searching her face and lifting up slightly to look at her head as well, looking for any signs that she'd fallen and bumped her head at some point.

"Of course not," she rolled her eyes at him. "Magical folk are still human, I'm as human as you are only I have magic in my blood and DNA. You know about the different blood statuses amongst magical folk, so you know it's possible for children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and so on, to possess magic if they have a Squib ancestor. Knowing this, I've done some digging into the magical families of the US and compared them to your family tree. I wanted to see if it was possible that you have a magical or Squib ancestor, which would explain Sam having visions despite not having magic."

"And do we?" He asked curiously.

"No, you have no magical ancestry what so ever. And this is why I'm worried. It's impossible for Sam to have visions without having a single trace of magic in your ancestry. I'm certain there's something I'm missing, something I'm not picking up on and I don't like the feeling there's something around the corner that's going to blindside us."

"Maybe it's nothing to worry about," he said, pulling her closer to him and wrapping his arm around her shoulders as she settled into his side. "I dream about eating a certain food and the next day, I find myself eating it."

She rolled her eyes at him. "That's nowhere near the same thing. You dream about eating a food, which makes you crave that food and so you ensure you eat it the following day. Sam dreamt his girlfriend was going to be murdered and it happened, and it can't be a coincidence that it happened as soon as you came back into his life."

"It's not my fault."

"Of course it isn't and I wasn't insinuating that. I'm just saying I think all of this is connected and leading to something bigger. For the time being, I'm going to try and keep Sam distracted and hope that whatever is happening, doesn't come to bite us in the arse."

"I'm sure it's nothing and you're just making it seem worse because you're worried about it," he said, but he wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her of that or himself.

"I hope you're right," she sighed, flinging her arm over his stomach and tucking her head beneath his chin, her attention moving to the crappy movie that was playing on the TV.

"Why didn't Sam tell me any of this?"

"You're his big brother, he looks up to you and he doesn't want to admit or show weakness because he doesn't want you to think lesser of him. And by not admitting or acknowledging it, he doesn't have to deal with it. Blaming himself takes his focus off the fact that the woman he loved is gone and she's not coming back. She was taken from him."

Dean held her tighter to him, thoughts and images running through his mind of Hermione being taken from him in the same way Sam had lost Jess, and he didn't like it.

"Promise me I won't lose you," he muttered.

"I promise you won't lose me," she replied softly, tilting her head to look up at him and locking gazes with him. "And I'll make sure you don't lose Sam either."

"What would I do without you?" He mumbled quietly, his hand coming up to brush her hair back from her face.

She smiled up at him. "You'd probably already be dead by now, before meeting me you were shockingly careless when it came to planning and perimeter checks."

He shook his head despite knowing it was true and he ducked his head to press a kiss to her mouth. She pushed herself away from him so neither of them had to strain or be uncomfortable. He nipped at her bottom lip and soothed the sting with his tongue, sweeping it into her mouth when she parted her lips for him.

He pulled her back to him before lowering her on to the mattress and he moved until he was hovering over her, his body cradled by her legs which came up to wrap around his hips, holding him to her. He let his hands wander down to her stomach, gripping the edge of her sleep shirt and pulling it up with the intention to rid her of it, only he didn't have the chance.

A sudden beeping sounded in the room and Dean pulled away from her, his eyes searching for where the noise originated from.

"Merlin," Hermione breathed out, her eyes widening and she pushed at his shoulders.

Taking the hint, he shifted off her and watched as she darted from the bed and over to the table where her magical bag sat. He realised that the beeping sound was similar to the one he'd heard before, only this one seemed to be higher in pitch. He watched Hermione carefully as she dug through the contents of her bag, noticing that unlike last time, now she didn't seem worried or panicked, if anything, she seemed happy.

Finding what she was looking for, she pulled out a gold coin and held it in her hand, a smile pulling at her face and she all but bounced on the spot as she turned to face him with a little squeal of happiness leaving her, and he admitted, it was kind of adorable.

He raised an eyebrow, doing his best not to feel disappointed that they'd been interrupted because she seemed so happy.

"Ginny's in labour," she beamed.

"What?" He blurted out in surprise.

"Ginny, she's gone into labour, two weeks early mind."

"Oh, then we better wake Sammy and get over to the hospital," Dean said, climbing off the bed and finding himself realising that he actually did want to go to London with Hermione.

Not only would it give Sam a brief glimpse of the world she came from, but he was hoping that by introducing his brother to Hermione's family, it would make them realise how serious he was about being in a relationship with her. Not to mention, he had to admit that the brief glances he'd gotten of her friend's baby girl and seeing the way Hermione was when holding her, there was something peaceful and comforting about it.

"But your father..."

"It can wait. I'm certain he's not dead. He's going to far too much trouble to avoid us, which means he doesn't _want_ to be found. Taking a day or two away from searching for him won't make much difference. I don't think we'll find him until he's ready to be found," Dean shrugged. "Besides, we've been busy since you got back and between the shape-shifter... "

"Thank Merlin the cats alerted us to that one otherwise that case would've been a disaster," Hermione interrupted. "I'm still scarred for life when I nearly kissed him instead of you."

He snorted before continuing. "That scary-ass Hook Man, the haunted asylum and the couple of demons we've dealt with in the last two weeks alone, we deserve a day off," Dean said. She looked at him in disbelief and he snorted at her. "Seriously, it's fine, and this might be the distraction Sam needs."

"It'll take us a while to get there. Apparition is draining enough, but side-along with multiple people is worse. I won't be able to travel as far as I would if it was just us, but I know there's a magical cafe about four hours from here. We can floo from there instead of my house. Given the time here, I'd say it's between four and five o'clock in London. We may have to stay overnight just to make sure we get some rest."

"Great, let's make it two nights, I'll go wake Sam," he replied, reaching for his jeans he'd taken off earlier, slipping on his shoes and leaving out the door, leaving behind a surprised Hermione.

He made the short distance to Sam's room beside his own and banged on the door, and given that it barely took him any time to answer, Dean knew that Sam hadn't been asleep. His brother opened the door, peeking around the edge before opening it wider, showing Dean that Sam was still dressed in his jeans and shirt and he could see his laptop sat open on the bed.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked with a frown.

"Nothing's wrong," Dean responded. "But pack up, we're leaving."

"Why?" His brother asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door frame.

"Hermione's just heard her sister's gone into labour, so we're going to London with her for a couple of days."

"And what about dad?" He raised an eyebrow at him.

"You and I both know the only reason we can't find him is that he doesn't want us to. Taking a couple of days away, especially after the last few weeks we've had, isn't going to do any harm. Unless you want to stay here and wait for us to get back, that is? You can just relax and do whatever while we spend some time in her _magical_ world."

"I'll be ready in five minutes," Sam said, his eyes lighting up in a way Dean couldn't remember happening since they were kids, and he shut the door in his face.

~000~000~000~

"That was awful," Sam groaned, his hands rubbing at his temples as the brothers followed Hermione into the hospital.

After several apparition points and breaks in-between, it had taken them both to convince Sam to get into the fireplace before they floo'd to London. After that, Hermione had apparated them to the same hotel they'd stayed at during their last visit, and after booking two rooms and sneaking Crookshanks and Sadie into their room without anyone seeing, they left and headed straight to the hospital.

"You get used to it," Hermione said. "And I know you're excited about seeing where I grew up and having access to the knowledge of the workings of my world and people, but please don't wander off and try not to stick out. Muggles technically aren't supposed to be in here, so just act as though you belong here."

"What would happen if people found out you brought us here?" He asked, falling into step beside her whilst Dean walked on the other side of her, his arm around her shoulders.

"You'll both have your memories wiped and you won't ever remember the existence of magic or meeting me, and I'll be arrested and most likely imprisoned, not only because you're muggles, but Hunters, too. So keep that quiet as well. Seeing as I'm not married or engaged to Dean, I shouldn't have revealed the secret of magic to him, and I shouldn't have done the same to Bobby either."

"But your friend was screaming the place down last time we were here," Dean frowned in confusion.

"I knew it was coming so I put a Silencing Charm around us, no one but you, me and Harry heard him," she replied.

"If he starts on you I'll put a bullet in him. I don't care how long you've been friends, I won't stand back and let him upset you."

"I know," she said.

"I've missed something, haven't I?" Sam asked.

"Ron, he's my childhood best friend and ex-boyfriend from when we were teenagers. He's an arsehole, so if he is here, don't take any notice of him and you might want to keep an eye on Dean," Hermione answered. "This is it," she gestured to a door to the right and she stepped forward, opening it up.

"Hermione?"

Dean saw the way a warm smile pulled at Hermione's face and she stepped away from him and over to the older woman that stood from a chair. Giving the shocking red hair, he knew without a doubt that she was the mother of Hermione's siblings, and that made him anxious. He knew the woman had all but raised Hermione when she'd been brought into the magical world and after her parents had died, so technically, this was like meeting the parents, something he'd never had to do.

"Molly," she responded, going over to the older woman and being enveloped in a hug he was sure had dislodged Hermione's spine.

"Oh, I'm so glad you could make it, it's been so long since we last saw each other."

"I wouldn't miss this for the world," Hermione said, pulling back from her and the woman took Hermione's face in her hands, her eyes sweeping over her.

"Dear, you're far too skinny, you need to eat more."

Both Dean and Sam snorted at the comment, knowing that Hermione ate just fine. In fact, she almost ate more than both of them combined.

"I assure you I eat plenty, but with my active life I soon burn it all off."

"Yes, I've been told about your new _profession_ ," she said, stepping back with a disapproving look settling on her face.

"It's exactly what I did before, Molly. Only now I don't have tridents, fire balls and the Killing Curse thrown at me. I've been injured far less than I would've been if I were still here and working for the RCMC Department."

The older woman pursed her lips and her eyes darted over Hermione's shoulder and to him. Her crossed arms dropped down to her sides and her gaze was slightly narrowed, her eyes making him feel as though she were looking into his very soul and he shifted on his feet nervously, barely stopping himself from elbowing Sam when he snorted in amusement.

"I take it one of these young men is your boyfriend," she said.

"Oh right, sorry," Hermione said sheepishly and moving back over to him, her hand slipping around his and helping to calm his nerves slightly, and she hooked her arm around Sam's, smiling at the older woman proudly as she spoke. "This giant here is Sam, and this is Dean, my boyfriend and Sam's older brother."

"I see," she spoke with pursed lips and her eyes narrowing further, making him even more nervous. "Hunters, correct?"

Dean visibly shifted on his feet and he kept his eyes locked with the older woman's, not wanting her to think he was ashamed of his profession or that he was afraid of her opinion of him.

"Molly," Hermione scolded with a light laugh and Dean blinked in surprise when the redhead chuckled and shook her head, her defensive stance suddenly dropping and a warm, welcoming smile crossing her face.

"I'm sorry, Dear, I couldn't resist," she replied before stepping forward. "It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Molly, Hermione's second mother if you will; Harry and Ginny have told me all about you."

Dean let out a startled sound when she suddenly pulled him into a hug that could crush a bear and he found himself stilling in surprise. She stepped back before doing the same to Sam and although it was clear his brother was just as surprised at the welcoming, Sam seemed to be less uncomfortable than he'd been.

"And Ron, no doubt," Hermione sighed as the redhead stepped back.

"Of course, Dear, but I tend to not take notice of his opinion on your relationships, he's biased and blinded when it comes to you. I much prefer to take Harry's word as he's the most protective of you out of all my boys," she smiled. "And not only does Ginny seem to approve, as does George and Bill, but the children haven't stopped talking about your new boyfriend for weeks now and it's hard to make such an impression on those little wizards."

Hermione smiled proudly as she looked up at him and she gave his hand a squeeze, Dean finding himself feeling much more comfortable now that he knew Hermione's pseudo-mother didn't hate him.

"You're taking care of my daughter, aren't you?" She asked, looking specifically to him, and her words had sounded more like a threat than an actual question.

"As much as she'll let me," he replied and the woman chuckled, looking to Hermione with a warm expression.

"That's our Hermione, she's always been independent," she shook her head fondly.

"Where's Arthur? And how's Ginny? Where are the others?" Hermione asked, drawing the attention away from him and back to her which he was more than happy with.

"Ginny had me send word for them not to bother coming. She didn't want the waiting room full of grumpy, exhausted children and the others have work in the morning and she didn't want to disrupt them. Ron took Lavender, Hugo and Rose away for the week and aren't due back for another three days. Arthur has taken the children to the playroom and should be back soon, and the last I heard, they were preparing Ginny for delivery."

Hermione let out a breath at the news. "I was worried I wouldn't make it back in time, we both know how she reacted when I almost missed Albus' birth," she said and the redhead chuckled.

The door opened and drew their attention before two yells of excitement were heard and Hermione stepped away from him and Sam, only to be ploughed into by both her nephews, almost knocking her off her feet. She laughed and hugged them to her tightly, not being able to get a word in as they both spoke over each other to be heard.

"I missed you both very much," she said, pulling back from them and smiling down at them.

"Uncle Dean!"

Dean couldn't help his laugh at the look on his brother's face when the two little wizards darted around Hermione and over to him, James being tall enough to wrap his arms around his waist, but Albus couldn't reach past his thigh and they both clung to him, beaming up at him.

"What's up, Little Potters?" He asked, ruffling their hair and they both grinned.

"We missed you," James said and Dean's stomach did a flip-flop at his words. "Mummy's having a baby," he said. "I think it's a girl."

"And me," Albus said.

"When can we go in your car again?"

Dean blinked slowly before shaking his head. "Not yet, boys," he said. They both looked disappointed and Dean had never felt guiltier in that moment at the way their eyes saddened and their bottom lips jutted out. "We're very busy and only came to see your little brother or sister but we have to get home. But I promise, once we've finished we'll go swimming and I'll take you to see a movie, like I promised."

"Okay," they both responded, still looking disappointed but less so.

"Who's that?" James asked, pulling back from Dean and looking to Sam.

"This is Sammy, my little brother, just like Albus is yours," Dean answered.

James frowned slightly. "So he's our Uncle?"

"I suppose so," Dean nodded. "But he's not as cool as I am."

They both laughed at him before Albus reached for his hand, pulling him over to one of the chairs where a small table sat nearby and was filled with books, magazines, paper and colouring pencils.

"You read me," he said to Dean, picking up a random book and giving it to him.

Amused, Dean took a seat and snorted when Albus clambered up onto his lap whilst James hopped onto the seat beside him, leaning against him so he could better see as Dean opened the book and began reading aloud. He felt the eyes of the older woman on him, watching the way he interacted with her grandchildren and after sneaking a peek at her, he saw the way she nodded to herself before taking a seat and Dean hid his sigh of relief, knowing that he now had her approval.

"You alright?" Hermione asked Sam, coming to stand beside him and Sam looked down at her with slightly wide eyes and a blank expression on his face.

"I've never seen him like this before," he responded. "Dean hates kids."

"Maybe, but he certainly doesn't hate my nephews," she shrugged. "But it's hard to, you spend five minutes with them and you can't help but love them as you'll soon find out. You're family now, Sammy. Get used to it."

The door opened once more, "So sorry, I got talking to a healer I know and...Hermione?"

Dean looked up and away from the book in his hand to see Hermione being enveloped in a hug by an older man with shocking red hair and again, it wasn't difficult to understand this was the father.

"Arthur, it's so good to see you," Hermione smiled before pulling back from him. "I have some people I wish to introduce you to. This is Dean, my boyfriend and Sam, his brother."

Dean shifted Albus off his lap despite his protests and he handed the book to James to read to him, before standing and crossing over to Hermione.

"Oh, it's nice to finally meet you," the older man said with a bright smile, and shaking his hand enthusiastically before moving onto shaking Sam's. "Harry has told me all about you. You're muggle Hunters, right? That's wonderful. I'm Arthur; tell me, what's the purpose of VCB's?" He said, so quickly that he'd barely been able to keep up and both he and Sam blinked slowly as Hermione giggled from beside him.

"What?" He blurted out.

"DVD's" Hermione corrected.

"Oh, Arthur, let's not overwhelm the poor dears," the woman spoke, bustling over to them and batting at her husband's arm with her hand. "Hermione, Dear, would you mind watching the children whilst we go to the cafeteria?"

"Of course not, I imagine you need the caffeine," she smiled.

"Would you like anything bringing back?"

"No, thank you. We were heading to bed when we received the news so we're fine. Take all the time you need."

"Thank you," she replied, taking her husband's hand in hers and pulling him out of the waiting room, the door closing behind them.

"You can relax now," Hermione said, looking amused and he did just that, all of the tension and anxiety leaving his body as he let out a huge breath of relief. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Yes," he replied and both she and Sam snorted at him. "I thought it would've taken a lot longer to win them over, though."

"Why? You're charming; it's one of your best qualities. You can win anyone over easily enough. But I suppose you had James and Albus on your side, which automatically means Harry's on your side and Ginny bloody loves you after only one meeting. Harry's never liked any of my previous boyfriends, so for him to have not hexed you at all is telling enough," she smiled.

"Uncle Dean," James called.

"Go on, before they riot," she nodded to her nephews and he snorted before heading back over to them, seeing Hermione take a seat and Sam did the same, picking up a random magazine and flicking through it.

Twenty minutes later found Dean sitting back into his chair and with Albus having fallen asleep on his lap, leaning into his chest and letting out snores. Five minutes after Dean returned to reading to the children, James had gotten bored and had roped Sam into drawing pictures whilst sitting at the small table, and James was asleep now, too, his body slumped over, his face pressed against the paper and a colouring pencil still in his hand.

"Poor things, they're exhausted," Hermione said, standing from her chair and putting down her magazine.

She pulled her wand from beneath her sleeve and they both blinked in surprise when she transfigured two chairs into a bed. Taking the hint, Dean was sure to have a hold of Albus as he stood with the young child in his arms and crossed over to the bed, settling the little child down on the mattress, whilst Sam lifted James from the ground and carried him over to the bed, setting him down beside his brother. Dean moved until he was sat beside Hermione and she snuggled into his side when he put his arm around her shoulders.

"How much longer do you think?" He asked quietly as to not wake the children.

She shrugged her shoulders and leaned her head against his shoulder, him noticing that she looked tired and he didn't blame her either, he felt tired, too.

"Could be ten minutes, could be another couple of hours and it depends on how smoothly the delivery goes or if there are any complications. We just have to sit and wait until we hear the news," she sighed.

"Well, I think we're about to," he said, his eyes spying the one and only Harry Potter as he stepped into the room from a second door he hadn't noticed before. He wore green coloured scrubs, his cheeks were flushed and his hair messy and sticking out at odd angles, but he wore a bright smile on his face.

Hermione jumped up from her seat and darted over to him whilst Dean and Sam followed after her at a leisurely pace.

Harry's eyes darted over to Sam and Hermione huffed at his distraction.

"Sam, Harry Potter, the saviour of the Wizarding World and all that rot. Harry, Sam, Dean's younger brother," she said. "Now spit it out before I slap you."

Harry shook his head and shared a nod with both Dean and his brother before turning to Hermione with a smile on his face.

"Do you want to meet your niece?"

Hermione let out a shriek of happiness as she flung herself at him and wrapped him up into a tight hug, miraculously not waking her nephews as she did so. Harry chuckled at her and wrapped his arms around her in return.

"Of course I do, you idiot, take me there now," she demanded and he laughed as he pulled back from her, his eyes darting to his children asleep on the transfigured bed and he smiled at the sight. "Molly and Arthur went to the cafeteria, they'll probably be back soon," she explained.

He nodded. "They'll know where we are and come to the room. Would you mind?" He gestured to his sons with a tilt of his head. "Gin's mother henning again and she wants them nearby."

Dean nodded and hit his brother in the arm to get his attention, before moving over to the bed and carefully picking up James, whilst Sam got Albus and they followed Hermione and Harry out of the waiting room.

"How are they?"

"Gin's tired but she refused to rest until after you've seen your niece. Everything went smoothly and there were no issues. She's been given the all-clear but they want to keep her in overnight just in case. As for my daughter, she's perfect," he said and Hermione smiled and took his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze.

They soon reached their destination and Ginny was on her hospital bed, her red hair tied back from her face and looking tired, but staring down at the little pink bundle in her arms adoringly. Hermione let out a gasp and darted over to her bedside, whilst Harry transfigured the two chairs in the room into a bed and he and Sam placed the boys down onto the mattress.

"She's absolutely gorgeous," Hermione breathed out, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside Ginny and looking down at her niece as she held her in her arms and tears filled her eyes.

Sam stayed back but Harry crossed over to Ginny's side and took her hand in his and Dean crossed the room until he was stood beside Hermione, peering over her shoulder to look down at the child she was cradling. And Dean had honestly never seen a cuter baby, not that he'd seen many, mind. She already had a think head of shocking red hair and when she opened her eyes to blink up at him, they were bright green much like her father's, but Dean thought she looked most like her mother with her little nose and pouty mouth.

"Does she have a name yet?" Hermione asked.

"Lily," they both replied.

Hermione smiled with teary eyes. "Well, she certainly does have the hair and eyes," she said. "And you're right Harry, she's perfect."

Ginny's eyes darted away from Hermione and her daughter and up to him.

"Hey, Sexy Momma, how you feeling?" He asked, slipping his hands into his pockets.

She laughed and smiled at him tiredly whilst Hermione rolled her eyes and Harry sighed.

"Tired but fine, and you're as charming as ever, I see," she responded and he, of course, gave her his most charming smile. "And who's this?" She asked, her eyes moving over to Sam and he gave her a little wave and smile.

"My baby brother, Sammy."

"Nice to meet you, even if I do look terrible."

"You like fine, and even if you did actually look terrible, which you don't, it's understandable," Sam responded.

She snorted at him. "You're a charmer too, I see."

"They didn't get it from their father, I know that," Hermione muttered and both Dean and Sam snorted at her. "He's an arsehole," she explained after seeing Harry and Ginny's raised eyebrows. "Anyway, Dean, do you want to hold her?"

"No thanks," he said immediately and taking a step back from her.

"She's not going to bite you; she doesn't even have teeth yet."

"I'm good," he replied, taking another step back.

"Winchester, hold my baby or I'll be offended," Ginny spoke and he scowled at her trying to guilt-trip him. "I've just spent six and a half hours in labour and it wasn't for you to reject her once she arrived."

"I'm not rejecting her, I just don't want to drop her," he defended himself.

"Only an idiot can drop a baby and I know you're not an idiot, so sit your arse down and hold your niece."

Dean sent a glare to Hermione, Harry and Sam when they all snorted at him, and Hermione stood from her place sat on the end of the mattress and moved so he could take her place. As Hermione held the newborn in one arm, she used the other to manipulate his own arms into position before shifting the little pink bundle into his arms, making sure the head was supported and that he would be comfortable.

Hermione stepped back and he scowled at her before looking down at the newborn in his arms, a big yawn leaving such a little thing and she squirmed in his hold. The moment those little green eyes opened and they locked onto his, he knew he was done for as he felt his whole world suddenly shift. He knew from that very moment that although he wasn't the father, he would bend both heaven and earth to protect her, already he was making plans on how to scare off any males that dared to go near her when she was older.

He knew how men thought, he was one after all and should she meet anyone that was like he used to be before meeting Hermione, he wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in him and bury the body.

Hermione moved to stand closer to him, her arm resting over his shoulders and her body pressed against his as she peered down at the little bundle in his arms, a smile on her face as she reached out to shift the blanket up to the wriggling newborn's chin.

"What?" She asked softly, noticing that he was looking up at her with a soft expression on his face.

"Nothing," he replied, his eyes moving to stare down at the newborn once more. "It's nothing," he muttered.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 12

**Four days later...**

Dean’s grip on the steering wheel grew tighter the closer they got to his childhood home.

They’d stayed in London for two and a half days and while it had been relaxing compared to their usual schedule of hunting, it’d also been busy. When they’d returned to the hotel after meeting Lily, Hermione had offered to watch the children for Harry and Ginny, seeing as Harry was going to stay with Ginny and the baby at the hospital overnight. While Arthur and Molly were more than happy to do so, he knew that they were both far too old to be watching two young, energetic children for so long, especially when Arthur was due at work only a few hours after and that would leave Molly on her own.

Dean hadn’t minded and Sam hadn’t taken much convincing either. So, Hermione had apparated him and Sam to the hotel first before returning to the hospital for the children, Albus being asleep on her hip and James half-asleep as he held her hand. Once she stepped into their hotel room with the kids, Hermione had transfigured the couch in their room into a bed before settling the children down, them both already being in their pyjamas. He made sure to watch the children whilst she ran one last errand for the night, teleporting over to her brother’s house to pick up some clothes for the children for when they woke.

When she’d returned, they had both been exhausted and they’d climbed into bed, neither of them bothering to the change out of their clothing. They were woken far too early for either of their likings but they’d both known to expect it, and after climbing out of bed, they’d both taken it in turns to have a quick shower whilst the other watched the children. After readying for the day and making sure the children were dressed and had brushed their teeth, they’d made the short distance to Sam’s room, collected him and headed down to the hotel’s restaurant to sit down for breakfast together.

Sam, being too excited at not only being in Britain but at being so close to witnessing the magic of Hermione’s world for the first time, had done nothing but pout during breakfast when Hermione had told him they’d be spending the day in Muggle London. But once she’d promised they’d visit her magical world the following day when the children would be back with their parents, he’d soon perked up.

They’d spent that day with Hermione showing him, Sam and the children the tourist sights of London and playing in the park which appeased Sam. Before dinner rolled around they’d returned to the hotel and Hermione had taken the children back to their parents’ house and once she returned, she’d taken him and Sam out for some traditional British food at a nearby pub where’d they’d had several drinks. The following day and just as promised, she took him and Sam to her magical shopping town and despite it being his second time seeing it all, it had still amazed him just as much as it had Sam.

Dean had wanted to stay a couple of days longer and it had been the plan, until he and Hermione were woken up early the next day by an insistent banging on their hotel room door. After getting up to answer it and glaring murderously at Sam, he’d finally broken down and come clean, telling him about his vision of Jess’ death. Dean had been surprised at first but was glad that his brother finally trusted him enough to share this with him. And after his confession, that’s when he made another one that had Hermione springing from the bed with her wand in her hand and kneeling down in front of Sam as she muttered beneath her breath and different coloured shimmers of light surrounded him.

And that was how he found himself driving towards the place he’d vowed never to return to. Dean had initially thought Hermione’s worries over his brother had been out of paranoia but after Sam had revealed he’d had another vision of a woman in their old childhood home and a figure made of flames, looking like the exact same thing had killed Jess and their mother, his worry soon surfaced. Knowing what Hermione had explained to him about Sam and the existence of prophetic dreams, he’d reluctantly agreed to leave London and head back to the States to check it out.

Dean’s eyes flicked over to Hermione when her hand reached up to cover one of his before he grasped it tightly in his hand and brought them down from the steering wheel to rest in her lap as she shifted closer to him and rested her head against his shoulder. Dean didn’t know how she knew of his inner torment, but she always knew how to make him feel better.

He felt Sadie lick at his cheek, rubbing her head against him and the purr that left her vibrated against his skin, him knowing that the little fur-ball had also picked up on his emotions and she was trying to comfort him, too.

It had only been a few days of having Sadie when one day she’d climbed up onto the back of his seat, her little body pressed against the back of his neck, her head resting against his shoulder and her fluffy tail wrapped around his neck as she slept. Since that day she’d taken to sleeping in that position whenever he was driving and nine times out of ten, that’s where she was found. Dean thought it a little strange of the cat, but after seeing and understanding Crookshanks’ behaviour and knowing his half magical status, he’d grown to get used to his own little fur-ball acting the same.

“I can do this with Sam if you want to stay out of it,” Hermione said softly, not wanting to wake Sam as he’d dozed off in the back seat with Crookshanks curled up against him. 

Dean took a deep breath and lessened his grip on the steering wheel while his other hand gave hers a squeeze.

“I’ll be fine,” he muttered.

“You sure?”

“I have you, don’t I?”

She gave him a soft smile and pressed a kiss to his cheek before resting her head against his shoulder once more. Much sooner than he have liked, he was pulling up at the side of the curb and parking not far from his old childhood home. He switched off the engine and turned his eyes out the window, looking over to the house, flashbacks of that fateful night when it was bursting with flames and his mother had been taken from him filling his mind. Seeming to know, Hermione’s hand squeezed his a little tighter, pulling him back to reality and he shook his head trying to fight off the bad memories.

“Sammy, we’re here?” Dean said, looking over his shoulder to his brother. “Sammy!” He called and he startled awake, jumping in his seat and banging his head off the window. Dean snorted at him and Hermione rolled her eyes. “We’re here,” he said.

Dean removed his hand from Hermione’s and he reached up to unfold the little white fluff-ball from around his neck, bringing her in front of him and holding her up to his eye level. While Sadie had grown a little and put on some weight in the time he’d had her, he suspected she wouldn’t grow much bigger but he didn’t mind. He actually liked that she was small, especially compared to Crookshanks. And he wouldn’t admit it, but he’d grown to be quite fond of his little protector and the way she liked to sleep curled around him when on long journey’s.

“Thank you,” he muttered softly, and Sadie meowed back in response before reaching out to butt her head against his nose and she licked at his face. Hermione smiled softly and pressed another kiss to his cheek before shifting over to the passenger’s side door, getting ready to climb out.

“Have I missed something?” Sam asked with a confused frown, seeing Dean’s tender interaction with his cat.

“No, nothing,” Dean replied quickly, reaching over to set Sadie down on the back seat and seeming to know she was to stay in the car, she curled up next to Crookshanks and didn’t move as they all climbed out of the Impala.

Before Dean even had the chance to stop Sam, he’d already walked up to the door and knocked loudly. Dean took a deep breath before following after him with Hermione at his side and when the door was pulled open, it revealed a young blonde woman and they spied a little girl as she darted through the hall and into a room that Dean remembered had once been the living room.

Sam took the lead, explaining that they had once lived there as children and Dean was surprised when the woman had let them in, offering to give them a tour. But the moment Dean stepped into the house, the flashbacks started and he froze in his steps. His hands clenched into tight fists and his eyes slammed shut before he felt Hermione’s hand clasp around one of his as she stepped up beside him.

“Breathe,” she whispered softly, reaching up to speak into his ear. “Take a breath in through the nose, hold it for eight seconds and exhale slowly from the mouth. Single out one smell, one sound and a happy memory and focus on them. Count to five and when you’re ready, open your eyes.”

Dean, having nothing else to do and wanting to be free of the memories, did as Hermione instructed. He focused on her smell of apples surrounding him, he focused on the sound of her gentle, calming voice and he brought forward one of his happiest memories to date; the morning he woke up to Hermione making pancakes the day after they’d slept together for the first time. Allowing those things to take control of his mind, he counted to five and turned his head towards Hermione before slowly opening his eyes, getting caught in her soft, worried gaze.

“Thank you,” he said. She smiled at him and gave his hand a squeeze. “How’d you know that would work?”

“Therapy,” she responded and he raised an eyebrow. “PTSD,” she said as a way of explanation and he nodded in understanding. “I’m a lot better than I was a few years ago but even now I can still have episodes if I’m triggered by something.”

Dean turned his eyes away from her to see Sam watching him worriedly whilst the woman, Jenny, he thought, looked confused. Shaking his head, he put on his most charming smile and she seemed to relax, albeit unknowingly.

“You have children?” Hermione asked, having seen the little girl earlier and hearing her voice coming from the room to their right.

“Yes, Sari’s my eldest and Ritchie’s my youngest,” the woman replied. “Do you?”

Hermione smiled and shook her head. “No, but I have several siblings and almost a dozen nieces and nephews, I’m quite happy being the fun Aunt that spoils them rotten,” she said.

Jenny smiled at that before stepping into the living room to begin the tour. The little girl took an interest in them and whilst Jenny moved to show them the kitchen, Hermione stayed behind to keep the children distracted. During the tour, Dean was sure to keep Hermione’s words in the back of his mind to keep him grounded whilst he noted the changes in the house to what he remembered twenty-two years ago. As they made their way down to the basement where Jenny explained she’d found an old trunk with belongings she felt they should have, he and Sam noticed the lights flickering. After casually pointing it out, that’s when she explained about the strange things that had been happening in the house since she’d moved in.

Not long after that, they took their leave and with the trunk being carried between him and Sam, Hermione thanked the woman for her hospitality and said goodbye to the children, before they all headed for the Impala.

“So?” Hermione asked as they climbed into the car, her subtly shrinking down the trunk so it would easily fit into the back seat and Sadie soon jumped over the seat to climb onto Dean’s lap, meowing in greeting. The way his little fluff-ball behaved you’d think he’d been gone weeks and not an hour, if he was even gone that long.

“Apparently strange things have been happening. Flickering lights, strange noises, temperature drops,” Sam answered.

“That’s interesting, Sari mentioned there was a monster in her wardrobe and she’s seen it a few times, she said she feels like it’s watching her sleep. And if I’m being honest, I didn’t get a good feeling about the place.”

Dean frowned and scratched Sadie behind the ears when she meowed to get his attention. “I guess we should approach this as if it were any other case and we need to do some digging on the history of the house. We’ve got dad’s journal and I’m sure there’s stuff in there about it.”

“We can compare that to anything else we may find,” Hermione suggested. “And when I say ‘we’ I mean Sam. Computers hate me.”

“We know,” both he and Sam responded and she scowled at them before reaching over to lift Sadie off Dean’s lap so he could drive them to the motel they’d passed on the way to the house.

~000~000~000~

They’d been at the motel for no more than a couple of hours and much to Dean’s dislike, Sam had to share a room with him and Hermione due to there being only one vacancy left. In that time, Hermione had gone for lunch whilst he went through his dad’s journal, looking for extracts about the house and Sam did online research before they began comparing what they’d found.

“Dean?”

“What?” He muttered, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming after staring at the pages of the journal for so long.

Hermione was currently in the bathroom doing God knows what, Sam was sat at the table and he was laid on his bed with the journal open but covering his face. Crookshanks was laid beside him with his head resting on his thigh and Sadie was sprawled out on his chest, him absentmindedly running his hands through her soft fur and scratching behind her ears.

Sam seemed to hesitate before answering. “What do you remember about that night?”

Dean sighed; he’d been expecting that question for a long time now. “Not much,” he answered, and it was true. He’s only been four years old at the time and most of it had been blocked out a long time ago, but the things that he did remember were traumatising and they haunted him. “I remember... I was with mom, we were putting you to be and then Dad took me to my room. I remember the fire alarm waking me up and I left my room. Dad came out of your nursery and I could see the fire and smoke. He gave you to me and told me to run. I carried you out the house and I stood and watched the flames break the windows and then dad was running towards us. He picked me up and the last thing I remember is an explosion.”

He felt the mattress shift beside him and didn’t have to look to know it was Hermione. Silently she moved to lay beside him, her body pressing up against him and her head resting against his shoulder. He reached out, his hand moving to cover hers and he gripped it tightly.

“I didn’t know you carried me out,” Sam said quietly.

“It didn’t matter,” Dean replied. “But anyway, I’ve found a name, Missouri Mosely, she’s mentioned in here more than once. Apparently she’s a psychic.”

“Please,” Hermione scoffed from beside him and he lifted the journal off his face and looked to her amused. “Psychics are nothing but con artists.”

“Don’t you have them in your world?” He asked knowingly.

“Technically yes, we have Seers, but only a few of them are actually legitimate. The majority of them just spout nonsense and make up predictions and prophecies, claiming someone’s going to die on a rainy day or someone will be gravely injured on the night of the full moon. I hate to point out but there are seven billion people in the world, of course, those things are going to happen. Bunch of crackpots, the lot of them. I believe in prophetic Seers, those that have visions, but I take issue with those that claim to be something they’re not, that claim they have knowledge and take advantage of desperate people in awful situations.”

“I take it this means you’re not coming with us to talk to her then.”

“Absolutely not. I would rather wash my eyes out with bleach, stick knives in my ears and do a parachute jump out of a plane,” he said, him and Sam sharing an amused look.

~000~000~000~

The last few hours for Dean had been as stressful as could possibly be. After visiting Missouri Mosely and admittedly she had freaked him out a little when she’d known who they were before they even had the chance to introduce themselves or give her fake names, she’d also known about the deaths of Jess and their mother. That though he hadn’t been impressed with given those deaths had been front page news and anyone could’ve seen it on TV or read about it in the newspaper.

Missouri had agreed to travel to the house with them, claiming that she could feel two presences, one of them being a poltergeist she was sure wasn’t responsible for the deaths. After Jenny had explained the strange things that had occurred since their visit earlier that morning, Missouri had mentioned that she was able to help cleanse the house and get rid of the spirit which Jenny seemed happy to try.

They left the house to gather the things they needed before returning with the strange bags of ingredients and unfortunately, the poltergeist had fought back during their time trying to place them about the house. Thankfully Jenny and the children had been waiting outside but Dean had gotten a bit banged up and knew he would have bruises forming and once Hermione saw them, she was going to be furious.

Missouri assured them the house was finally safe and she took her leave, but wanting to be sure, Sam had convinced him to keep watch of the house for a little while longer. As the sky grew dark and night fell upon them, he and Sam sat in the Impala across the street keeping an eye on the house.

He’d already called Hermione to fill her in on their progress and she agreed that it was best to keep watch, explaining that it was extremely hard to get rid of poltergeists and that a few “bloody bags made by a fraud” wouldn’t do “jack shit” to get rid of them. At the time she’d been on loudspeaker and had received snorts from both him and Sam, but if there was someone who knew anything about poltergeists, it was Hermione. She’d offered to apparate over to them but he assured her that he and Sam could handle it and that she should get some sleep and he’d see her in the morning. He kind of wished she had been with them now.

Everything was quiet until Sam noticed a screaming Jenny from the upstairs window, just as he’d witnessed in his dream. Dean being completely freaked out that Sam had been right, it had taken him a few seconds to react and jump out of the Impala, following after Sam.

After breaking in through the front door they both raced upstairs, Sam telling him to get Jenny out whilst he got the children. He ran back to the door, helping the little girl out and the flashbacks hitting him once he saw her carrying her little brother the same way he’d done to Sam all those years ago. In his distraction he wasn’t able to stop the door from slamming shut, preventing anyone from getting in or out. The noise jarred him back to reality and at seeing it closed, it filled him panic and dread, but he used that to his advantage. He busted down the door with a strong kick followed by ramming into it with his shoulder, almost tripping over when the door opened and fell to the ground. Dean entered the house, his gun drawn and he soon found Sam in the kitchen, pinned to the wall by an invisible force.

He made to rush over to him only a figure appeared, seeming to be made entirely out of flames and fire and he took his aim, ready to pull the trigger before something happened that he wasn’t expecting. The flamed being, it transformed into the image of his mother.

“Mom,” he whispered in disbelief. 

He found himself freezing, unable to move, unable to hear what was being said as he briefly saw her lips move. He wasn’t quite sure what happened but she turned away from him and to Sam before she burst into a ball of flames and disappeared from view, Sam being released by the invisible force and falling to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

The only thing that brought him back to reality was the smell of the smoke and the feeling of it getting harder to breathe. Shaking his head, he slipped his gun back into the waistband of his jeans, hauled Sam off the ground and dragged him out of the house as the flames grew wilder and devoured everything in sight.

By the time they stepped outside, Jenny stood watching her home go up in the flames, clinging to her children the way Dean remembered his father doing the same to him and Sam.

“You’ll be safe now,” Dean said, putting everything that had just happened to the back of his mind until he returned to his room and had time to properly process it all. “And I’m sorry to just leave like this, but we really have to go,” he said, hearing the sirens of the approaching emergency services.

He didn’t give her time to answer, he just dragged Sam over to the Impala before driving off as quickly as he could.

~000~000~000~

Dean had been silent during the short drive to the motel, not responding to Sam’s questions or attempts at conversation and he soon gave up. Once they reached the motel room, Dean barely acknowledged his brother as he kicked off his shoes and socks, pulled off his leather jacket and removed his jeans before climbing into bed beside a sleeping Hermione, with both Sadie and Crookshanks being curled up beside her.

He ignored the feel of Sam’s eyes on him and he let out a sigh before going into the bathroom, flicking on the light and closing the door behind him. The moment he was gone, he pulled Hermione over to him, wrapped her up in his arms and buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent of apples.

“Everything alright?” She asked sleepily, her hands moving to cover his and twining their fingers together.

“Not really,” he admitted.

“Wanna tell me about it?”

“Later,” he muttered. “Right now I just need to process it.”

“You know where I am,” she responded, twisting her head to look over her shoulder and she pressed a kiss to his mouth before settling back down to sleep.

~000~000~000~

Dean was the first to wake of the three Hunters and for several minutes he did nothing but stare at Hermione’s sleeping face as if she were a real-life angel and he honestly didn’t know how he’d be able to cope in his fucked up life if he didn’t have her.

Sometime during the early hours of the morning he’d finally managed to drift off to sleep only his slumber hadn’t lasted long with him soon being woken by memories of the night his mother died, it all being fresh in his mind not only due to the case, but to what he’d witnessed in regards to his mother.

He hadn’t woken Sam as he could very easily sleep through an earthquake, but Hermione was a light sleeper and just as he often calmed her during her nightmares, she’d done the same for him and that night hadn’t been the first time she’d done so. She’d laid with him in silence as he held her to him tightly and he soon broke down, telling her what had happened in her absence. She didn’t interrupt and she didn’t speak after either, but there was nothing she could’ve said to have made it better. All he needed was to hold her and soon they’d both drifted off to sleep.

Dean turned his eyes towards Sadie when she let out a meow before stretching out her body and he chuckled when she almost fell off the bed, her claws digging into the blanket to pull herself back up before she hit the ground. She licked her paw and cleaned behind her ear before walking over to him, using Hermione as a ladder as she climbed over her and surprisingly she didn’t wake. Sadie licked his face in greeting, her tongue feeling like sandpaper against his skin but he’d grown used to it by this point.

“Hungry?” He asked his pet and she meowed in response.

Carefully, as to not wake Hermione, he climbed out of bed and headed over to the table, picking up the opened box of cat biscuits that had been left out and he crossed over to the other side of the room where four bowls sat by the chest of drawers. Two were food bowls and one larger than the other and he filled them both up, Sadie immediately digging into her own as he picked up the other two bowls and refilled them with clean water.

After tending to the cats, he slipped into the bathroom and had a quick shower and when he stepped out, both Sam and Hermione were still asleep. Knowing it was his turn to pay for breakfast that day, he grabbed the keys to the Impala and headed out.

By the time he returned an hour later, both Hermione and Sam were awake. Hermione was dressed and had recently taken a shower as he could tell by her damp hair, and she sat on the bed flicking through the channels on the TV, and he heard the shower being shut off, alerting him to Sam being in there.

As he entered, she turned to him and gave him a smile. “Morning, how are feeling?” She asked softly.

“Better,” he answered. “I got breakfast,” he said, holding up the bags in his hand and the tray of hot beverages as proof, before placing them on the table.

She stood from the bed and crossed over to the table, accepting the tea he held out to her and he removed the two coffees before putting the empty tray in the bin. He removed the contents of one of the bags, laying it out on the table and Hermione automatically went for the one in the middle, knowing it was hers without having to actually open the packaging. He’d gotten her the closest thing he could get to an English breakfast and if he was being honest, he’d practically fallen in love with that dish when he’d been introduced to it in England.

For himself he’d gotten a breakfast burrito, two actually, and seeing as Sam was anti-grease, he’d made sure to get him something boring and fruity, if only to stop him from complaining. Sam exited the bathroom with damp hair and he stepped around the cats before taking a seat at the table.

“Sam, Sweetie, _please_ let me give you a haircut,” Hermione said, looking at him pleadingly.

“No, it looks fine,” he said, catching his coffee when Dean slid it across the table.

“You look like a bloody mop,” she replied and Dean let out a snort, not being bothered by Sam’s glare.

“Seriously, Hermione, I don’t need a haircut.”

“Yes, you do,” she disagreed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Fine, I don’t _want_ a haircut.”

“But you look like a loo brush.”

“I thought I looked like a mop,” he replied.

“If a loo brush and a mop were to have children, I’m looking at their offspring right now,” she responded and Dean felt an amused smirk pull at his mouth. “I promise, it’ll only take five minutes.”

“I’m not getting a haircut.”

“Why not? Don’t you trust me? I used to cut Harry and Ron’s hair all the time.”

“Don’t care; you’re not cutting my hair.”

“We’ll see,” she said with pursed lips and Dean snorted at her, but decided to change the subject before someone got injured, probably Sam.

“I got you a present whilst I was out,” he said.

Hermione turned to look at him, looking surprised. “You did? Why?”

“It’s what boyfriends do, isn’t it? Give their girlfriends presents?”

“I suppose so, but my ex-boyfriends only gave me something when they wanted something from me.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” he frowned slightly, filing away that information for a later date.

“I know; you’re not like them.”

Shaking his head, he reached for the second bag he’d carried into the room and pulled it over to him. Whilst out getting breakfast, Dean had suddenly been filled with the urge to get Hermione something, something to say thank you for her support during the case and he knew the only reason he’d gotten through it was because of her. He wanted her to feel appreciated and as though she mattered, he wanted her to feel how she made him feel.

Reaching into the bag he pulled out a box of sugar-coated and custard doughnuts, having bought them because he knew they were her favourites, and her face lit up at the sight of them. He reached into the bag once more before pulling out a small roll of bubble wrap and her smile widened.

“Merlin, thank you!” She said happily, taking it from him, unrolling it and she sat, her breakfast forgotten –which is something he never thought he’d see- as she popped the little air pockets one by one.

“I thought flowers and chocolates were a little cliché,” he responded, and her reaction to the odd gifts just went to show how well he actually knew her. She wasn’t overly fond of flowers, as she’d told him before, and with the exception of chocolate cake, she didn’t really eat much of it preferring savoury over sweet.

She laughed at him, giving him a beaming smile. “They’re perfect.”

“Good, I also have a large roll in the back seat of the car but I couldn’t be bothered carrying it up. It’ll keep you entertained for a good few hours.”

She beamed at him once more and she stood from the table, rolled out the rest of the bubble wrap and placed it on the ground, before she started jumping on it, laughing at the sound of the air pockets popping.

“You are the strangest person I’ve ever met,” Sam commented amusedly.

“You can’t talk; you’ve got loo brush and mop babies for hair.”

Dean snorted and took Hermione’s now empty seat, watching as her cheeks began to flush a light pink due to the jumping she was doing.

“Well, that hurt my feelings,” he responded.

“Good, and since you won’t let me give you a haircut and I’m forced to be subjected to that mop of hair, you’re not allowed to pop my bubble wrap.”

“I don’t want to,” he said, crossing his arms over her chest.

“You’re a liar, liar pants on fire,” she sang. “I know you’re jealous of my bubble wrap.”

“I’m not, and if I wanted to I can just go out and buy some and _you’re_ not allowed to touch it.”

“You can’t,” Dean said. “I got the last of it.”

Hermione smiled smugly and Sam rolled his eyes before standing from the table and heading into the bathroom. Dean turned his eyes back to her, seeing that her breathing was turning into little pants as she still jumped over the laid out bubble wrap, trying to get every last air pocket.

“So, why did you really buy me these gifts?” She asked.

Dean’s eyes darted to the closed bathroom door before moving back to her and he shrugged his shoulders.

“To say thank you. Without you, I would’ve never been able to deal with this case the way I did. You’re the reason I was even able to set foot in that hell hole.”

She stopped in her jumping, her breathing being heavy and her face flushed and she walked over to him, stopping in front of him.

“Dean, you don’t need to thank me. I only did want any girlfriend would do for their boyfriend. I can empathise, not on this particular scenario but on the feelings it causes and the scars that are left behind. I only used my own coping methods because I was sure they’d help you, too. You’re my boyfriend and I lo...” Dean’s eyes widened and his stomach dropped, but she hesitated. “Like taking care of you. Seeing you happy makes me happy. Seeing you hurting or struggling hurts me, too. I just want to make your life a little better and any way that I can do that I will.”

He reached out, snagged her wrist and tugged her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a hug.

“There are going to be times in our lives when we need support and I promise to be that for you, if and when you need it.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek before pulling back from him, her eyes falling to the bubble wrap on the ground and she frowned.

“Oh,” she said, noticing that there were no more air pockets to be popped.

Dean chuckled at the saddened look on her face, before reaching out for the plastic fork, spearing some sausage and bacon onto it and holding it out in offering. Hermione opened her mouth and took the food from him before pulling the box of doughnuts over to her, a smile pulling at her.

She flipped the box open and when Sam exited the bathroom, smelling of deodorant and toothpaste, he reached out to take a doughnut from the box only to have his hand slapped away and finding himself on the end of a murderous glare. A glare so terrifying that Dean was sure it would have demons running back to hell.

“Do not touch my doughnuts. I will end you and use your head to clean the bathroom floor.”

No matter how long it took them to find his father and no matter how many cases they worked until they did so, Dean knew his life would never be boring.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 28

**Three days later...**

“Where’d Hermione disappear to?” Sam asked as he stepped out of the bathroom, his eyes darting about the room before he crossed over to the table, opening up his laptop and switching it on.

Unfortunately, they were sharing once more and Dean had been in a bit of a mood the last few days because it meant he and Hermione hadn’t had any time _alone_ together in just over a week.

“Where do you think?” Dean responded, looking up from Sam as he cleaned his weapons. “It’s before nine in the morning. She was starving and you were taking too long in the bathroom, so she left to get breakfast.”

“It’s my turn,”

Dean shrugged. “You forfeited your right to choose when you made her wait. You know what’s she’s like when it comes to food. She’s worse than I am.” Their attention was pulled when Dean’s cell phone rang. “It’s probably Hermione, you get it,” he said, gesturing to the ringing device that was closer to Sam than it was to him.

Sam reached over to the other side of the table and picked it up, flipping it open and pressing it to his ear.

“I seriously can’t believe you were that hungry you couldn’t wait for me to get out the bathroom,” Sam spoke and Dean snorted, his eyes falling back down to the gun in his hand before they snapped up at Sam’s next words. “Dad?” He breathed out, Dean dropped his gun to the bed and crossed over to the table, pressing his hands against the surface and leaning forward, watching Sam’s surprised expression.

“It’s a long story,” he muttered. “Are you hurt? Where are you? What are you doing? We’ve been looking for you for weeks? Why haven’t you been answering our calls or texts?”

Dean motioned for him to give him the device so he could talk to his father himself, wanting answers, but Sam shook his head.

“We’re fine. What do you mean it’s too dangerous? Are you being serious? Of course I’m angry with you. No, I won’t do it... What do you mean, why? You disappeared and we haven’t been able to get a hold of you, Bobby’s just as worried as we are. Oh, well makes everything alright then,” Sam scowled. “Fine,” he muttered, looking to Dean. “Get me something to write with,” he said.

Dean crossed over to the bedside table where a note pad and pen sat and he passed them to Sam, as he pressed the cell phone between his ear and shoulder, picked up the pen and began writing.

“I’ve got it, now where are you?” Sam’s scowl deepened and he snapped the cell phone shut, dropping it onto the table in a huff. “He hung up on me,” he muttered.

“And? What’s going on?”

“He wouldn’t say and he wouldn’t tell me where he is either, he just told me to write down these names and to go to a town called Burkitsville.”

Dean frowned but otherwise nodded. “Then we should head there when Hermione gets back.”

“Are you being serious? We haven’t heard from him in months and out of the blue we get a call from him telling us what to do, and you want to follow his instructions, just like that?”

“There’s a reason he wants us there, Sammy.”

“And why wouldn’t he tell us where he is? He’s keeping things from us. We should find out what it is, we should look for him. We know he’s up to something, he just admitted it during the call.” 

“I’m gone all of half an hour and you’re already arguing,” Hermione said as she stepped into the room, closed the door behind her and walked over to the table, setting down their breakfast. “What’s it about now?”

“Dad just called,” Sam said.

Hermione dropped her beaded bag to the ground in surprise, her eyes widening, her mouth parting and her gaze darting between them.

“And? Where is he? What did he have to say for himself? I hope you gave him a bollocking,” she said.

“He didn’t apologise, of course, because why would he?” Sam scowled, looking to Dean. “He told us to stop looking for him, gave us a list of names and told us to check it out.”

“And we should,” Dean argued. “We know he’s fine now that he’s called, there’s a reason he wants us to go to Burkitsville, so we should. We leave after breakfast, no arguments.”

~000~000~000~

“We really shouldn’t have left him, Dean,” Hermione said, her eyes looking over her shoulder and out the back window, Sam becoming a small dot the further they drove away.

“He made his decision, Hermione, and you’re supposed to take my side on this,” he replied.

“I’m not taking either of your sides because you both have valid arguments, you’re both right. You’re right that we should do as your father said because this is likely a case he wants you to work and it could stop people from dying in the future, but Sam’s right, too. Your father’s keeping things from you and it’s obvious he’s up to something. He didn’t even apologise for all the worry he’s caused you, for making your life revolve around searching for him these last couple of months. He had no right to do that to you, and he has no right to just contact you after all this time with orders for you to do what he wants. You’re a grown man, you can make your own decisions and you don’t need your father running your life for you.”

He pursed his lips, knowing that she was right and he begrudgingly admitted that Sam did have a point, too. But it was too late now; he wasn’t turning around and going back for Sam. He’d made the decision to climb out the car in the middle of the highway.

“But ignoring all of that, we shouldn’t have just left him alone. I know he can take care of himself, but anything can happen to him in the middle of bloody nowhere.”

Dean sighed before reaching into his pocket to remove his cell phone and he handed it to her. “Call him, make sure he’s alright,” he said.

She took it from him and speed dialled Sam, pressing the speaker against her ear.

“It rang three times before the call ended,” she said, handing it back to him.

“He’s fine,” he said. “He saw the caller ID and declined the call so we know he’s not dead yet.”

She reached over and smacked him on the back of the head and he scowled at her. “Fine, once we’re done with this potential case we’ll find him.”

“We better, or it’s your arse,” she warned, before she reached over the seat, tore off a large section of bubble wrap and set to popping each air pocket individually.

~000~000~000~

“Dean, we have a problem,” Hermione said quietly from her place beside him and he looked down at her with a raised eyebrow.

“And that is?”

“I can’t do this,” she whispered.

“Because?” He asked.

She took a deep breath and his gaze followed her, landing on the ugly ass scarecrow that wasn’t that far in front of him.

After they’d arrived at Burkitsville they’d met with some of the locals, trying to find out more information about the names his father had given him. It wasn’t until they came across a young woman who happened to be the niece of one of the couples, who had apparently been spotted leaving town and heading for the highway. With that being the only information they’d found, apart from the mentioning of a tattoo on one of the missing couples, he and Hermione decided to leave town and head for the highway, looking for any trace that may have been left behind.

They hadn’t been on the road long when both his EMF reader and Hermione seemed to pick up a strong signal from an orchard they were passing. Deeming it suspicious, they pulled over at the side of the road before going for a hike and shortly after, they’d found the scarecrow.

“I don’t like scarecrows.”

“Come again?”

“Scarecrows, they freak me the hell out. My three biggest fears are flying, drowning and scarecrows. They don’t just give me the willies, they give me nightmares.”

Dean looked to the scarecrow and back to Hermione, amused. “Flying and drowning I get,” he said, and he did. He hated flying as well and he knew she couldn’t swim so drowning was a logical fear for her to have. “But scarecrows?”

“Make fun of me all you want, but I had a bad experience with them when I was a child.”

“And that is?”

She took a deep breath and he saw how she’d pulled her wand from her sleeve and she gripped it in her hand tightly.

“When I was little, before my grandparents died, I was four when I stayed at their house for the night. They took pride in their garden and had a scarecrow to keep the birds away from their prized pumpkins. My Grandfather told me that if I touched any of the plants, the scarecrow protecting them would come for me. He thought it was funny, my Grandmother not so much. Anyway, I was playing in the garden and they were in the house. I don’t remember what happened exactly, only I know I found my way into the shed and it locked behind me. I couldn’t get out and there was a second scarecrow stored in there and I was trapped with it. I wasn’t found until after it had grown dark because they’d both fallen asleep. My parents never let me stay the night again and I had nightmares even after I went off to Hogwarts.”

Well, that was a story and a half, he thought.

He reached out for her hand, wrapping his around hers and he gave it a squeeze. “If I can fight a phantom on a plane, you can walk past a scarecrow.”

“I can’t,” she disagreed.

“Of course you can, you’re the strongest person I know. Are you really going to let something stuffed with straw stop you from solving this case?”

“Yes, yes I am,” she responded and she made to turn and walk back to the car but he tugged her back to him.

“Come on, you’ll be fine,” he told her softly, tugging her forward.

She put up a fight but he was stronger than her and when she realised that she gave in, gripping her wand tighter and her eyes closed. Dean briefly stopped in front of the scarecrow and looked up at it.

“Dude, you fugly,” he commented and Hermione, still with her eyes closed, smacked at his shoulder and he chuckled.

He made to walk off only he stopped when he noticed that something about the scarecrow didn’t seem right. Something was just off.

“Why aren’t we moving?” Hermione asked.

“Something’s off,” he explained before he let go of her hand and stepped closer, his eyes tracing every inch of the scary-ass straw being.

His eyes landed on the arm holding the sickle, and beneath the ripped fabric of the shirt sleeve, he saw something that had no business being on a scarecrow.

“You want to climb this thing for me?”

“No, why the hell would I want to do that?” She asked.

“I’ve seen you climb a twenty-foot tree without issue,” he answered.

“That was to rescue a child’s kite. I don’t have an issue with heights, but I do have massive issues with scarecrows. Sorry, Honey, but you’re on your own.”

“Chicken,” he commented, darting out of the way when she tried to kick him behind the knees and if she had, he would’ve hit the ground face first.

Chuckling, he spotted a ladder off to the side and he retrieved it before climbing the steps so he could get a better look at the arm. Shifting the tatty shirt sleeve aside, he frowned before removing the folded up papers from his back pocket, finding one of the male victims that had a tattoo just like the one the scarecrow had, and the pieces fell into place.

“Err, Hermione, Baby, I don’t know how to tell you this, but...”

“Oh for Merlin’s Sake, what now?” She scowled, her eyes still closed.

“I need you to see this for yourself.”

He looked down at her and she looked far from pleased, but she found the courage to take a deep breath and open her eyes. Her brown orbs landed on the photo he held in his hand and they reluctantly moved up to the arm of the scarecrow and he held the shirt sleeve open for her to see.

“Oh, Hell!” She sighed.

“Yeah, exactly,” he agreed.

~000~000~000~

“I have a bad feeling about this?” Hermione muttered.

After finding what they did with the scarecrow, he and Hermione both knew they had to return to the town in order to find the answers they were looking for. In the process of that, Dean had met a young couple in the town’s cafe and whilst Hermione had gone to the bathroom, he took the time to speak with them.

After hearing the story of their ‘broken’ brake line on their car and that it wouldn’t be fixed until nightfall, Dean had become suspicious and offered to help them. Unfortunately they’d turned him down but he hadn’t felt comfortable leaving it at that, and after being chased out of town by the sheriff, who Hermione swore was ‘dodgy’, they found themselves back on the highway, parked by the orchard.

“I really don’t like when you say that,” he spoke and it was the truth, he _really_ didn’t like it. He thought his instincts were good, but Hermione’s were off the charts and had yet to fail them.

“How long are we staying here? I don’t mind sleeping in the car; I just know Crookshanks and Sadie haven’t had a proper chance to stretch their legs yet. Aside from the couple of bathroom breaks they’ve had, they’ve been in the car most of the day.”

“We’ll give it another hour and if nothing happens by then we’ll see if we can find a motel for the night and return in the morning,” he said.

He reached up to pet Sadie on the head as she was once against curled up against him on the back of his seat, her head resting on his shoulder and her tail wrapped around his neck. Hermione had her legs stretched out and resting in his lap whilst Crookshanks had sprawled himself on her knees, laying on his back with his legs in the air, his bushy tail swishing back and forth as Hermione scratched at his stomach.

If the cats had mostly been in the car all day, he didn’t think they minded. With the balls of yarn and cat toys they’d bought over the months to keep the cats happy, the food and water bowls on the floor behind the seats and the Ventilation and Cooling Charms Hermione had placed on the car so it didn’t get too warm for them, he suspected the cats were more than happy, especially when they could sunbathe and sleep all day.

Hermione let out a tired sigh and shifted to get more comfortable, her back pressing against the door and tilting her head to rest against the back of the seat.

“Tired?”

“Hmmm,” she hummed in response, her eyes fluttering closed. “We’ve had a busy few weeks,” she commented.

He could see she was very close to dozing off and he was more than happy to let her whilst he kept watch, unfortunately, that didn’t happen.

Sudden screams sounded from the orchard and Hermione startled, Crookshanks letting out a meow of irritation before jumping onto the back seat. He shared a look with her before they both jumped out of the car, Dean making sure that Sadie didn’t try to follow him and he retrieved a shotgun from the weapons case as a precaution.

“Split up?” Hermione suggested.

“No,” he shook his head. He didn’t like the thought of being separated from her.

“Dean, we have to, it’s too difficult to tell where the noise is coming from. We’ll have a better chance of finding them if we take different routes.”

“I really don’t like this,” he said, but he knew she was right. “Just be careful,”

“I always am,” she responded, giving her wand a little wave before she darted off into the orchard, taking a right and followed after her, taking a left.

He continued to do his best to follow the sound of the screams and it was him that found the couple he’d been speaking to at the cafe, and unluckily for him, they weren’t alone. Dean was just glad he’d been the one to find them and not Hermione, as a sickle weaving scarecrow charged straight at him.

He fired off several shots, hitting his target each time but it didn’t stop the scarecrow, it didn’t even slow it down.

“Shit,” he muttered, before turning and running in the opposite direction, making sure the young couple were following after him and he darted behind a tree, hiding behind it.

The scarecrow ran straight past them but didn’t allow his guard to drop until he knew they were definitely safe. Quickly and quietly he guided the young couple back towards the Impala and just as he stepped out of the orchard, Hermione did, too.

“I’m fine,” he told her. “There’s something definitely not right about that scarecrow, the damn thing was alive and chasing us.”

“Of course it bloody was,” she muttered, sparing a brief glance to the understandably frightened couple.

“If it makes you feel any better, I now understand your hatred for the ugly bastards.”

“I did tell you,” she grumbled. “What do we do about them?” She asked, gesturing to the young couple.

“Find them a ride out of this crazy town and we figure out what we’re dealing with.”

~000~000~000~

“Sam thinks it might be a manifestation of a pagan god.”

“And how do you know that?”

“I spoke to him while you were in the shower, and we kind of apologised to each other and got everything out in the open.”

“Good, I’m proud of you,” she said. “And he’s fine?”

“Says he is,” he nodded. “But we need to do a little digging into this theory of his.”

“Sleep first though,” she said. “And food, I’m starving.”

~000~000~000~

They’d spent all morning doing research on the topic of pagan gods until Dean came across a local professor that was an expert on the topic. It hadn’t taken much to convince Hermione to go with him and they’d learned about a Norse God that was said to get his energy from a sacred tree, and with this information, he and Hermione had left the office only to be captured, but due to not expecting it, neither he nor Hermione had been able to prevent it. The sheriff has knocked him out with a blow to the back of the head, and the deputy had done the same to Hermione.

When Dean had come to, his hands and feet were tied making movement difficult and with the smell, cold and damp in the dark room, he thought them to be in a basement or cellar. Hermione was laid on the ground beside him, her eyes closed but her breathing seeming to be normal.

“Hermione,” Dean called, trying to wake her. “Hermione!”

A groan sounded from her and he let out a sigh. Her eyes slowly fluttered open, squinting in the darkness until she found him. “What happened and why does my head feel as though a heard of hippogriffs have taken up tap dancing in my brain?”

“You were right about the sheriff,” he said.

“Of course I was, I know a dodgy person when I see one. He’s the reason we’re... where are we exactly?”

“No idea,” he responded. “I’d guess a basement or cellar. The town’s people, they’re in on this. And given that we’ve been digging around and sticking our noses in, they know we helped that couple escape.”

She sighed. “We’re their sacrifices then.”

“Think so,” he nodded. “Can you get us out of here?”

“No, I either dropped my wand or they searched us for weapons and took it from me. Fantastic,” she muttered. “We’ll have to come up with something and the only way to stop all this is to destroy the tree.”

“Did you hear that?” He asked.

She frowned and strained her hearing. “Footsteps, someone’s coming.”

“Great, don’t wind them up.”

“Excuse me?” She said in indignation. “You’re just as bad as I am.”

“You’ve got a temper on you and I can’t imagine you being happy right now.”

“I’m hungry,”

“Thought you might be,” he said amused despite their current situation.

The door opened and several men stepped in, looking to them blankly before they were both hauled off the ground and tape was placed over their mouths to keep them from speaking. Hermione glared at them furiously whilst he watched them carefully, looking for any weakness they may have that he could use against them. His feet were untied to allow him to walk but Hermione was lifted and thrown over the shoulder of the largest man, her cries of outrage being muffled. He tried to break free of the hold on him and get to Hermione, but they were too tight.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” one of them spoke. “Wouldn’t want something _terrible_ to happen to her, would we?”

Dean vowed to kill the bastards.

~000~000~000~

Dean wasn’t sure what to expect but it certainly wasn’t being tied to a tree for the last hour, or to be bored out of his mind. Hermione was tied to the tree beside him and he knew her to be pissed, her tense body and the way she was furiously glaring at the tree opposite her, as if she could set it alight with her gaze alone, was very telling.

He knew they had to find a way to get free, but with them both being tied to the trees, Dean having no weapons and Hermione not having her wand, they were pretty much screwed and they needed a miracle.

“Dean! Hermione!”

Both their heads snapped up and they looked to each other with wide eyes displaying their surprise and relief, for they both recognised that voice.

“Hell, what happened?” Sam asked, his breathing being heavy from him running through the orchard in search of them and he came to a stop in front of Dean. He ripped the tape off his mouth and Dean winced as Sam set to untying him.

“Long story, what are you doing here? How’d you find us?”

“Neither of you were answering my calls so I got worried and knew I had to make sure you were fine. I found your car but the EMF reader picked up the signal surrounding the area, I’ve been looking for you for ages,” Sam explained, and when Dean was free, he moved over to Hermione.

“The town’s people, they’re in on it. We’re the sacrifice,” Dean said.

“Sounds about right,” Sam nodded. “And I have something for you,” he told a furious Hermione, before digging into his back pocket and pulling out her wand.

“Thank Merlin,” she sighed, taking it from him and pulling him into a hug. “Thank you,” she said, pulling back from him.

“I found it on the ground not far from here.”

“We better go, the scarecrow will probably be here soon and I don’t think I can handle it.” Sam raised an eyebrow. “My three biggest fears in life: flying, drowning and scarecrows.”

“Huh?” Sam said, looking at her as if she were crazy.

“Long story,” she sighed. 

The three of them were quick to make their way to the exit of the orchard where Sam had parked the Impala by the highway after driving over. With Hermione’s magic, she’d made all three of them copies of the keys so there’d always be a spare and Sam had never been more grateful; Dean would’ve killed him if he’d hotwired the car.

Their attempt to escape was stopped by some of the town’s people, and unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on the way you looked at it, the scarecrow made an appearance, killed two of the town’s folk and allowing them to escape as everyone fled.

“We need to find that tree and destroy it; we can’t risk waiting another day.”

“Can you find it?” Dean asked her.

“Maybe, I have a fairly good idea of what the energy field surrounding this orchard feels like so I may be able to use that to lead us straight to the tree.”

“Then you’re in charge.”

~000~000~000~

**Two Weeks Later...**

“I’m never going to be able to un-see this,” Hermione spoke, looking at him with a grimace on her face. “I swear, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to have sex with you again. We’re going to have a sexless relationship.”

Dean snorted and looked down at himself. He admitted, never in his life had he thought he’d be posing as a priest in order to get information for a case.

It was only the day before when Sam had come to him and Hermione, confessing that he’d had another vision in which a man is murdered but is made to look like a suicide. Hermione had given Sam one of her magical calmers to help him relax and get some sleep, whilst they’d both stayed awake most of the night, talking about their worry for his brother and what they could possibly do to help him.

For the third time, Sam had been right but they hadn’t made it to the man’s house in time to prevent his death, and so, they were officially on the case.

“Don’t be like that,” he said, giving her a grin and she took a step back from him when he took a step forward.

“Seeing you wearing that is just _so_ wrong.”

He darted forward and pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her so she couldn’t escape. He laughed at her grimace and lowered his head, burying it in her neck. Despite her words, she wrapped her arms around his neck and let out a sigh when he kissed and nipped at her skin. He lifted her off the ground, her legs wrapping around him as he crossed over to the bed, laying her down on the mattress and hovering over her.

“I feel like I’m corrupting you.”

He pulled back and smirked down at her, lowering his head so his mouth brushed against hers when he spoke. “You can corrupt me any time you like,” he muttered, deliberately pressing his hips forward against her.

She let out a huff and brought her hands in-between them, covering her face.

“I’m scarred for life,” she said, her voice muffled and he chuckled at her. “I’m serious; we’re never having sex again.”

“I don’t believe you,” he said amused, unfolding himself from around her when there was a knock on the door, and after opening it, it revealed Sam.

“This is so wrong,” Hermione repeated, her eyes darting between them.

“I agree,” Sam said.

“We have different reasons for thinking so,” Hermione replied, a grimace on her face as she looked at Dean.

Sam looked between him and Hermione, a grimace of his own pulling at his face. “This is something to do with sex, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” Hermione said. “Anyway,” she spoke, sitting up and standing from the bed. “You boys go and do your impersonations of holy men and I’ll head to the library and do some digging around the family and the house itself. I’ll grab dinner so it’s here when you get back.”

Nodding, he and Sam stepped out of the room and headed for the car, setting off on their journey to the house.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” Dean spoke, reaching over to turn down the radio which gained Sam’s attention.

“About?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Me and Hermione, it doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“Why would it bother me?”

“After what happened with Jess, I don’t want you to think that we’re...”

“I’m stopping you there, I don’t feel uncomfortable or disrespected about your relationship with Hermione or how you behave and interact when around me. I highly doubt you changed in the time I went off to college, but I do know that since I’ve come back, you’ve changed and I know it’s because of her. I’m not sure what it is that’s different about you, but there is something. You just seem...Happier, I guess.”

“She makes me happy,” he admitted.

Sam nodded. “You were lucky with meeting her. A woman like her is rare to find and regardless of her magic, she’s special. I don’t want either of you to have to worry about my feelings whilst you’re together. I lost Jess, but with Hermione’s help, I’m dealing with it. She’s good for the both of us. I love that girl and if you mess things up with her, I’ll put a bullet in you.”

~000~000~000~

“Sam!”

Hermione darted off the bed and over to Sam as he collapsed to the ground on the way to the door. Hearing Hermione’s shout, Dean jumped out of the shower, grabbed a towel and ran from the bathroom, moving until he was crouching down beside Hermione and his brother.

“It hurts,” Sam grunted, his hands pulling at his hair as his head bowed forward, it almost touching the carpet.

“ _Accio_ Pain Potion,” Hermione called, a vial shooting out from her bag on the table and she caught it in her hand, pulled out the stopper and held it out to Sam. “Drink this, it’ll taste awful but it’ll help with the pain. It’s basically magical morphine.”

She was able to coax him into lifting his head long enough to drink down the potion and his head bowed once more, Hermione reaching out to run her hand through his hair in the same way she did to him when he needed her comfort and support. Before long Sam’s body relaxed and he stopped in his rocking, slowly lifting his head and locking gazes with Hermione. He didn’t speak but he didn’t have to, Hermione understood and gave him a soft smile.

“What the hell just happened?” Dean demanded to know.

“I... I just had a vision. Roger, he’s going to die.”

Hermione’s eyes darted up to his wide ones and they locked gazes. “Power progression,” she muttered quietly and Dean took a deep breath and nodded.

“When?”

“Tomorrow maybe,” Sam answered.

“Okay, then we’ll head out early and try to stop it from happening, but right now you need some sleep.”

“I’ll get you a Dreamless Sleep,” Hermione spoke, standing from the floor and crossing over to the table while Dean helped Sam to his feet. “Two mouthfuls for every hour you wish to sleep,” she instructed, handing him the vial. “And if there’s anything you need, just knock on the wall and I’ll be right in.”

“Thank you,” he muttered.

“We’ll figure this out,” Hermione assured him softly. Sam nodded but he didn’t look like he believed her.

The moment the door closed behind Sam, Dean turned to her. “Power progression?”

“Power progression,” she confirmed. “He’s gone from visions whilst sleeping to visions whilst awake, and because we know this has no magical aspect to it whatsoever, we’re running blind. For all we know, this may progress further. And unfortunately, this thing I feel that’s going to happen, whatever it is, it’s getting closer.”

~000~000~000~

Dean honestly didn’t know what he was thinking allowing Sam to handle things with the psychic/psycho kid that was Max, but his brother had all but begged him.

They’d been unable to save Roger, him not taking their warning seriously and when they broke into his apartment to save him, he’d died before they reached him. After doing some more digging into the family, they’d discovered the motive behind the murder in which it was revenge for having beaten Max for most of his life. Dean could sympathise with the kid, but not to the point of committing murder.

And not only had he been freaked out when Sam had another vision right in front of him, witnessing the murder of the step-mother, but at having learned that Max seemed to have powers, too.

And Dean honestly thought that Hermione was onto something about there being something around the corner. He didn’t believe in coincidences and after hearing that Max’s mother had died the same way his mother had, that he had psychic abilities, too, and that they had manifested around the same time Sam’s had, Dean’s worry only grew.

If it hadn’t been for Hermione he’d probably be dead right now. They’d arrived at the house in time to stop the step-mother from being killed, and Max having seen Dean’s gun, locked all the doors telepathically, preventing them from leaving. Sam had been able to convince Max to speak with him alone and while he had taken the step-mother into the bathroom, he’d made a call to Hermione.

Before he knew it she arrived at the house, magically unlocked the back door and she snuck inside and up to the bathroom. She’d been about to cast a spell to help them get out undetected when the door slammed open and Max appeared, Dean’s gun being controlled telepathically and aiming at his head.

Hermione, being camouflaged into her surroundings, had gone unnoticed by the troubled kid and he felt her sidle up beside him, her hand wrapping around his and he was vaguely aware of a pulse of magic washing over him, him recognising it as one of Hermione’s shields.

Max had fired the gun but the bullet rebounded off the shield so quickly, he didn’t see it happen. At that point Sam had arrived, doing his best to talk down the kid and with a move that no one saw coming, not even Hermione had time to prevent the kid from killing himself.

With Alice safe and Sam devastated he’d been unable to help the kid, they’d left the house and returned to their motel, all settling into his and Hermione’s room with Crookshanks and Sadie picking up on Sam’s turmoil and moving to curl themselves up against him in an offer of comfort, as he sat himself on the end of the bed.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Hermione said softly. “He was a very troubled kid. You may not have been able to save him, but at least you tried and that’s what counts. You cared enough to try and help him when no one else did.”

“He was just like me,” he muttered. “I know dad’s an asshole, but if it weren’t for him, we might have ended up like Max, me in particular.”

“That’s true, he kept your family together, but he _is_ still an arsehole,” she said, making Dean snort and a smile finally pulled at Sam’s mouth.

“I’m worried,” Sam admitted. “Max, he locked me in a cupboard and I’m not sure how, but I opened it... Telepathically.”

Dean and Hermione shared a worried look.

“We’ll figure this out,” Hermione promised. “Now, stop your moping, I’m hungry and it’s your turn to buy dinner. But I swear, if you even dare to bring back something vegan or vegetarian, I’ll turn you into a mouse and Crookshanks will have hours of fun chasing you.”

Sam laughed nervously as he stood from the bed and left out the room, closing the door behind him.

“Power progression,” Dean muttered.

“In only a day, if I wasn’t worried before I certainly am now. We need to keep an eye on him.”

Dean nodded. “I think you’re right, about something happening.”

“I hope I’m wrong but I rarely am,” she sighed.

“It’s not a coincidence that Sammy and Max met, it can’t be.”

“You think it has something to do with the thing that killed your mother, don’t you?” She asked knowingly.

“Yeah, and I’ve got the feeling this is what dad’s keeping from us. He knows we’d want to help him.”

“So by keeping his distance he’s trying to protect you, that makes sense,” she nodded. “I’m still punching him when I meet him, though.”

~000~000~000~

**One week later...**

“That was a lovely sight,” Dean said sarcastically.

Sam hit him in the arm in warning. “The woman was cut into pieces and had her heart torn out, have some respect,” he said.

“Calm down,” Dean rolled his eyes before he caught sight of something on the carpet. “You seeing this?” He asked, bending down and pointing to the strange marking he could see.

“Not really, it’s not clear enough,” Sam responded, so Dean removed some tape from the toolbox he’d been carrying and used it to make the marking clearer.

“It’s a symbol,”

“I don’t recognise it,” Sam said.

“Me either, but maybe Hermione will,” Dean said, removing his phone from his pocket and snapping a photo of it to later show to Hermione.

“This is the second murder in two months, right?”

“Yep, so we better have a look around and see what we can find.”

~000~000~000~

“It looks familiar,” Hermione said, reaching for some paper and a pen so she could draw the symbol on a much larger scale. “I’m not sure if I know what it is or means, but I think I may have seen it at some point in my life, I just can’t place where from.”

“We’ll leave it with you then, seeing as you’re the expert on these things,” Dean said. “We’re going off the assumption this is a spirit, the EMF reader kicked up a fuss when we were searching the place.”

Hermione nodded. “What’s the plan now?”

“The victim was a bartender, so we’re going to head over and see what we can find out.”

“Does this bar sell food?”

“Probably,” Sam answered amused.

“Great, I’m starving, let’s go now.”

“What a surprise,” he said.

“Well,” Hermione huffed. “I was going pick up the tab for this evening, well not anymore, you can buy your own beer, Samuel.”

~000~000~000~

“So the victims have nothing in common?”

“No, not appearance, ethnicity, schools, dry cleaners, nothing. It appears completely random,” Sam said, but then his eyes darted off over Dean’s shoulder and he turned to see what he was looking at; a pretty blonde with a pixie cut, and Sam was staring at her.

“Close your mouth, you’re drooling,” Dean said, reaching for his beer and taking a swig from the bottle.

“Dean, I know her.” Dean raised an eyebrow. “When we split in Burkitsville, I met her hitchhiking and we got to talking. She was supposed to be going to California.”

“And?”

“Don’t you think it’s weird that she’s here the same time we are?”

Dean shrugged before turning his eyes back to the notes in front of him, seeing how Sam stood from the stool beside him and crossed the bar over to the woman. He hadn’t known how to react when she’d come over to him, introduced herself to him and later berated him ‘for dragging Sam around the country’. And if Hermione had been with him and not in the bathroom, he suspected the blonde would’ve ended up with a broken nose.

“I’m telling you, Dean, something’s not right,” Sam said after the young woman had left out the bar.

“If you say so.”

“I’m going to keep an eye on her.”

“I bet you are, you perve,” he responded and Sam scowled, before walking away and following her out of the bar.

“Why’s Sam a perve and where’s he gone?” Hermione asked, slipping onto the stool beside him and reaching for her beer.

“I’ll tell you later,” he replied. “But I think we’ve gotten everything we can from here, you ready to go?”

“Yep,” she nodded, downing the last of her beer and she stood from the stool, stilling in her movements when she caught sight of a slip of paper Dean hadn’t noticed. “What’s that?” She asked.

“No idea,” he shrugged his shoulders.

She pursed her lips and reached for it, opening it up to reveal a phone number having been scrawled across the paper.

“Oh,” he muttered, his eyes darting to the two bartenders and landing on the redhead who gave him a wink, obviously being the one that had slipped him it without him noticing.

“Did you ask her for it?” Hermione asked.

“Of course I didn’t,” he replied. “I’d chatted up the blonde like you’d asked me to, I haven’t even spoken to the other bartender.”

“Is that so?” Hermione spoke with a scowl before she stepped away from him and crossed over to the other end of the bar, stopping in front of the redhead.

“Can I help you?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

He watched as Hermione put the paper on the counter and slid it back over to the woman before leaning against it with her arms folded and her eyes narrowed slightly.

“I suggest you ask whether or not someone has a partner before giving them your number. It causes far less problems for yourself and others. If I didn’t trust my boyfriend so much, things could’ve ended very differently when I saw that.”

“I wouldn’t trust him at all if I were you, he’s been flirting with Sarah most of the night,” the redhead responded.

Hermione smiled sweetly. “And so you decided to slip him your number despite it not being you that he took an interest in? Seems logical,” she mused. “He flirted with her because I asked him to. You see, we’re law enforcement and we knew that in a place like this, we wouldn’t get the information we needed by flashing our badges. My boyfriend’s very charming and I trust him so much, I don’t mind when he has to use that to his advantage to get us the information we need. And I suggest you work on your penmanship, my six-year-old nephew has better control over a pen. Have a nice night.”

Hermione left the counter and headed over to him, taking his hand with possessive eyes and she dragged him out of the bar and to the car.

It wasn’t often Hermione got jealous. She had no issue with him flirting with other women to get them the information they needed, but she didn’t like it when women would approach him and flirt with him, even more so if they did it right in front of her. And seeing as it wasn’t often she got jealous, whenever she did he always got enjoyment out of it, especially since he knew his night was going to be very interesting and he wouldn’t be getting much sleep.

~000~000~000~

“I’m telling you, Dean. That’s what I saw,” Sam said.

Dean wasn’t that impressed with his brother, right now. He and Hermione had taken a very enjoyable shower together and Dean had been far from finished for the night, but they’d been interrupted by a knock on the door.

They’d both quickly dressed and Dean had opened the door, Sam stepping into the room without noticing Dean’s murderous expression, and he explained what he’d seen in regards to Meg and what she’d done at an abandoned warehouse.

“You think she’s the one responsible?”

“Yes!” Sam exclaimed. “She’s built some kind of altar and she was talking to someone. And I saw the same symbol that we found at the crime scene.”

“Alright, we’ll check her out in the morning but until then, get out.”

“What?” Sam blinked.

“Get out,” Dean repeated.

Sam frowned and his eyes darted between him and Hermione, noticing that Hermione’s hair was rumpled and her skin still a little flushed and she only wore one of his t-shirts, whilst Dean himself was only dressed in his boxers.

“I interrupted something, didn’t I?”

“Yes, now get out.”

“Alright, I’m going,” Sam said, holding his hands up and exiting the room with a grimace on his face.

~000~000~000~

“I’ve found the connection between the victims,” Dean said.

“What is it?” Sam asked.

“They’re both originally from Lawrence, Kansas,” he answered and Sam’s head snapped to him.

“That’s not a coincidence.”

“I don’t think so, no,” Dean agreed.

“Well, everything’s come back clear for Meg,” Sam informed him, looking frustrated.

“Well I have some good news,” Hermione piped up from being sprawled out on the bed, laying on her stomach with papers and open books surrounding her. “I know what the symbol is.”

“Enlighten us,” Sam said, sitting back in his chair and running his hand through his messy hair.

“It belongs to the Zoroastrian religion which is one of the world’s oldest religions that is still active. That symbol basically means Demon of Darkness.”

“Awesome, just what I wanted to hear,” Dean said cheerfully and she balled up a piece of paper and threw it at him. He easily caught it before throwing it into the nearby bin. “Keep going,” he encouraged.

She scowled at him but did so. “It’s also known as a Daeva, they’re shadow demons but unlike most demons, they’re not capable of human possession and they can only appear in the darkness. They’re used as demonic pit-bulls due to them being invisible killers, but in order to use them, they must first be bound by a specific spell to prevent it from attacking the one that had summoned it.”

“What are its weaknesses?” Sam asked.

“From what I can gather, they’re invisible to the human eye and can only be seen by their shadows which appear to be human like. They may or may not have the power of flight, but at the very least they can levitate, and they have superhuman strength which is stronger than most demons, as well as long, sharp claws, which explains how the victims ended up the way they did. As for their weaknesses, there’s the spell that binds them to the caster’s will preventing them from harm, and also light. They are literally demons of the night and are only able to move via shadows, so an extreme source of bright light can banish it, and as long as light is present, it can’t materialise. As for killing it, I haven’t found a way, yet.”

“Do you think you can find the spell? It might come in handy if you were able to bind it to you,” Dean said.

“I don’t know, supernatural and magical spells are very different, one requires a blood sacrifice and chanting for a start. The supernatural has no power over trueborn magic, which means that even if I were able to find the spell I need, it may not work due to my magic interfering with it.”

“That’s out then,” he sighed, pushing his hand through his hair.

“But you can just as easily break the spell. Destroy the altar and Meg won’t be protected either.”

“Okay, we’ll head over to the warehouse and see if there’s anything Sam missed before we destroy the altar. You stay here and see if you can find anything else that may be useful and if we need you, I’ll call you.”

~000~000~000~

“Dean, Dean wake up!”

Dean felt his head pounding and his neck aching from being laid at an odd angle for too long. Opening his eyes, he let out a groan as his eyes adjusted to the darkness surrounding him and he found himself tied to a wall with Sam beside him.

“The bitch hit me,” Dean said in annoyance.

“It’s a trap; she’s not after us, not really.”

“Then who?”

“Dad, she knows he’ll come to help us.”

Dean grumbled beneath his breath and rolled his neck, trying to rid himself of the ache. “We could really do with Hermione right now,” he sighed.

“She emptied our pockets,” Sam said.

“If she copped a feel, I’m hitting her, I don’t care if she’s a girl,” he said and Sam rolled his eyes.

“We need to get out of here before she comes back.”

“Do you know where she put our things?”

“Over there,” Sam gestured to a small overturned crate on the other side of the room.

“Great,” he grumbled, giving his head a shake. “Do you think you can get it?” Sam looked at him as if he were stupid. “You said you freed yourself from a locked cupboard using telepathy, do you think you can get my phone to me? I can call Hermione, she’ll track me and have us out of here before that crazy bitch comes back, but we have to be quick.”

“I don’t think...”

“Yes, you can,” Dean interrupted. “You’re my little brother, there’s never been anything you couldn’t do. Dad said you couldn’t go to college and get out of this life, but you did. When that kid picked on you for not being able to read, a week later you stood in front of the class and read an extract from a newspaper. When I said you wouldn’t be able to get your hands on those test answers, you broke into the school and hacked the teacher’s computer, just to prove me wrong. You’ve done this before and you can do it again.”

Sam blinked once in surprise before staring at him.

“Sammy, you can do this, I know you can.”

“Okay, I’ll try,” he said, turning his eyes to the crate over on the other side of the room.

Dean was worried that he’d hyped Sam up for no reason and they were helpless, as several minutes passed and Sam had done nothing but stare off into the distance. That was until he saw the crate shake before it tipped over, their weapons, car keys, wallets and phones hitting the ground and Dean felt his eyes actually widen in surprise. It was one thing to encourage Sam to do it, but it was another to actually see him succeeding at it.

Sam made a grunting sound and he turned his eyes to him, seeing sweat beginning to form on his forehead and his breathing grew heavier.

“Sammy, if it hurts you stop it, we’ll figure something else out,” Dean said, but Sam ignored him.

Dean turned his eyes back to their belongings, surprised to see that his phone was slowly being levitated from the ground and it bobbed about in the air as it made the journey to him. Opening his hand, he was able to catch the phone when Sam dropped it over his shoulder and it fell down his back. Looking over to his brother, he was panting and had his head titled back as he recovered from using his newfound ability.

Speed dialling Hermione, she picked up on the second ring and he set the phone on loudspeaker.

“Where the hell are you?!” Hermione hissed down the speaker and Dean winced at her tone. “You’ve been gone hours.”

“Really?” Dean said surprised, he thought they’d been no more than two.

“Really,” she said, not sounding pleased.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “We’ve got a problem and we need your help as soon as possible because the crazy bitch will probably be back soon.”

“I’ll need to lock onto your location so I’ll be about five minutes and for Merlin’s Sake, don’t get yourselves killed,” she warned before ending the call.

“Hermione to the rescue,” Sam said tiredly with a smile pulling at his face.

“That girl of mine's a lifesaver,” Dean agreed, trying to slip the phone into his back pocket and hiding it from view in case Meg came back before Hermione arrived.

Exactly five minutes and three seconds later, Hermione stepped out from the freight elevator and scowled at seeing the sight of them tied up to the wall before she let out a sigh and rolled her eyes.

“I honestly don’t know what you two would do without me,” she muttered, approaching Sam first and cutting the ropes from his hands, and moving over to Dean, doing the same, but as she did this, they heard footsteps.

“Hide yourself away, she doesn’t seem to know about you so that’s our advantage,” Dean said and Hermione nodded before tapping her wand to her forehead and making herself invisible.

Meg walked into the room with a cruel smile on her face when she saw them awake and watching her with narrowed gazes. She walked over to the altar, did God knows what and then approached them, coming to a stop in front of Sam. From that point she explained her plan of using them as bait to lure their father into a trap, something they’d already deduced beforehand and Dean found himself getting a headache.

When she mentioned there were Daevas in the room, his eyes searched for Hermione despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to see her, and wondering why they hadn’t attacked both him and Sam, and Hermione when she’d entered. But at the moment that didn’t matter as Sam lunged for Meg, knocking her down to the ground and Dean darted over to their weapons, picking them all up in his arms and Sam moved to stand beside him. They saw the shadows on the walls alerting them to the Daevas heading for them, only the altar was suddenly set ablaze and he felt Hermione’s hand wrap around his arm, before the familiar feeling of a tug in his stomach followed and he found himself stood outside the warehouse and by the Impala.

“Nice job,” Dean praised, Hermione once more becoming visible and she rolled her eyes at him.

“We better go, there’s no assurance that they won’t come after us,” she said and as she did so, the sound of glass shattering was heard and Meg was thrown out the window by an invisible force, landing on the ground in a heap of limbs.

“Good riddance,” Dean muttered, climbing into the car without a second glance.

“We better get back, I didn’t leave a window open and Sadie and Crookshanks have been out for a while and probably want letting back in.”

~000~000~000~

“That’s incredible, Sammy, I’m proud of you,” Hermione praised as they made their way to their room and her eyes darting about in search of their pets, but not yet seeing them.

“It was nothing,” he waved her off.

“Of course it’s something, what you did could’ve saved your lives.”

“I’m sure you would’ve come looking for us had we been gone too long.”

“Yes, I would’ve,” Hermione agreed. “But by then it may have been too late,” she argued. “You go on in; I’m going to see if I can find the cats, they should’ve been back by now.”

Hermione walked straight past their room while Dean opened the door and Sam followed him in, despite having his own room.

“Seriously, you did good, Sammy,” Dean said, stepping into his room but coming to a dead stop, Sam walking into the back of him. “Dad?”

The figure in the room slowly turned around, his hands in his pockets and a half-smile pulled at his face showing a few more wrinkles.

“Boys,” he greeted.

Dean, without even realising it, crossed over to him and pulled him into a hug, relief filling him at seeing that his father was alright and without injury. He was still pissed he’d been avoiding them for so long and ignoring their calls and texts, but for the time being he was just happy to actually see his father.

Dean pulled back from him and his father smiled at him, bringing his hand up to pat him on the cheek before Dean stepped back and Sam took his place, pulling him into a hug and his father looking surprised at just how much Sam had grown in the three and half years since he’d last saw him. 

“We know what you’re doing,” Sam said, pulling back from him. “We know you’re looking for the demon that killed mom.”

Their father tilted his head and he smiled slightly. “I knew you’d figure it out eventually, but this is something I have to do by myself. This demon, he’s dangerous and he’s powerful and I don’t just intend to exorcise him, I’m going to _kill_ him.”

“That’s not possible,”

His mouth twitched in response. “You’ve grown, Sammy,” he changed the subject.

“That does happen,” he responded, shrugging his shoulders and slipping his hands into his pockets awkwardly.

“Dean, I can’t find them, should I be worried?” Hermione’s voice flittered to their ears and she stepped into their room, coming to a sudden stop when she noticed the third member present and Dean felt his breath leave him.

“Hello, and you are?” His father asked with a raised eyebrow, his eyes briefly flickering over to Dean’s wide eyes and Sam’s tense form.

“You’re John, aren’t you? Their father,” she replied, her eyes narrowing and her lips pursing.

“You know my name, but I don’t know yours,” he responded.

Dean held his breath when he saw Hermione smile sweetly and her hand balled into a tight fist.

“Oh, sorry, that’s terribly rude of me,” she said politely before her hand suddenly came up and she slugged his father across the face, hitting him square in the nose.

His father stumbled back in surprise, he heard Sam let out a noise of surprise from beside him and Dean wasn’t sure if he should tell her off, laugh, or applaud. He had to give it her, she was a woman of her word and she’d done exactly as she’d promised, she’d punched his father in the face. And while Dean knew his father was capable of blocking such an attack, the only reason he hadn’t done so this time was that Hermione had taken him by surprise; she’d literally sucker-punched him.

“Marry her,” Sam muttered into his ear.

His father wiped at the blood that gathered from his nose and slowly lifted his head, his eyes falling to Hermione in surprise, and in a move that Dean hadn’t expected, she slugged his father across the face again, this time hitting him in the mouth and splitting his lip.

“Marry her, right now,” Sam muttered once more.

His father raised his head once more, spitting out the blood from his mouth and surprisingly he didn’t look angry at Hermione’s actions, he just seemed to be surprised.

“That one was from Bobby. He demanded that I deck you one if I met you before he next saw you.”

“Message received,” his father muttered and he stood in the middle of the room, having a staring match with his girlfriend. “I still don’t know your name.”

“Hermione, Hermione Granger, I’m Dean’s girlfriend.”

His eyebrow raised and he turned his eyes to Dean. Dean took a breath before crossing over to Hermione, taking her hand in his and checking it for injuries before carefully grasping it, and Sam came over to stand on the other side of her.

“Girlfriend?” His father questioned, his gaze locking with Dean.

“Girlfriend,” he confirmed.

“This is a fling, right?”

Dean frowned, unsure if he should take offence to that. Of course, his father knew of his past ways, but did he really think he was incapable of being in an actual relationship?

“No, we’ve been together around six and a half months, plus the two months she was my partner before we started dating.”

His father raised an eyebrow and his eyes moved to Hermione curiously. “Why’d you hit me?” He asked, wiping at his nose to clean away the blood that still trickled from the wound.

“Do I need a reason?” She responded. “You’re an arsehole and I’m not the only one that thinks so.”

“You’re the little firecracker Bobby told me about, aren’t you? He never mentioned you by name, but he did tell me to duck and run if I ever met you.”

“Who do you think taught me to sucker punch you?” She said and Sam snorted from beside her before covering it with a cough when their father sent him a look of warning. “I’ve always had a good arm on me, Bobby just helped me to improve it.”

“I admit, I have some respect for you.”

“You do?” Him, Sam and Hermione replied in complete disbelief.

“Bobby mentioned you’re an ally to Hunters, and I’m not entirely sure why you hit me, but I have the feeling it has something to do with Dean.”

“And Sam, I won’t have anyone messing with my boys, not even their father.”

He smirked at her, his eyes darting between him and Sam.

“Fair enough,” he tipped his head.

“I’ll leave you alone before I have the urge to punch him again,” she said, looking up at Dean, before she turned and left out the door, closing it behind her.

“I wasn’t expecting that welcome,” his father commented.

Dean slipped his hands into his pockets, unsure how to respond, unsure if he should apologise for Hermione having hit him, not once but _twice_ , and no matter how much he enjoyed seeing Hermione willing to defend him, it was still his father.

“I’m sorry about that,” Dean said, avoiding his father’s gaze.

“Don’t be,” his father replied, pulling his attention. “You’ve got a woman that’s willing to defend and protect you, even against me, and that’s rare. I’d keep my eye on her if I were you, because with a woman like her, there’s always going to be someone that tries to take her away from you.”

“That’s why I carry extra ammo,” he said and his father snorted at him. “I think it’s about time you came clean, don’t you?”

His father nodded and sighed, before moving to sit at the table, Dean doing a quick scan of the room to make sure Hermione hadn’t left any of her books out.

~000~000~000~

Twenty minutes later found Sam sitting on the bed, and him and his father sat at the table, silence surrounding them as they all processed what they’d each revealed, but that silence was broken when the door opened and two meowing cats entered the room, the little white fluff-ball that belonged to him heading straight for him and rubbing herself against his leg.

“I haven’t even been gone that long,” he said, reaching down to pick Sadie up and setting her down on the table as Crookshanks jumped up onto the surface beside her.

Dean watched the way the orange fur-ball regarded his father carefully before giving a sniff and flopping down onto his stomach, rolling onto his back expectantly. Dean snorted before complying with the fat cat’s wishes and rubbing at his stomach, whilst Sadie rolled onto her back, too, and she kicked at his hand and nibbled him playfully as he rubbed her stomach.

“Okay...” His father said slowly, Sam letting out a snort of amusement at the bemused look on his father’s face.

“Fat one’s Hermione’s, Sadie’s mine,” he said, wincing when Crookshanks nipped him for the name-calling. “She was a stray and he kind of adopted her so Hermione gave her to me,” he explained.

“You _hate_ cats,” his father said and Dean just shrugged in response, not knowing how to explain that these cats were technically magical without revealing Hermione’s secret. He knew his father was filled with so much hatred for the supernatural that he’d kill her without giving them the chance to explain.

“Boys, I hope you don’t mind another addition to our little hunting party,” Hermione’s voice called from outside.

“Why’s that?” Dean asked and he raised an eyebrow when Hermione stepped into the room with a blanket bundled up in her arms, before hearing a little meow.

“I found them and they just happened to find a...”

“Don’t say it,” Dean interrupted, already knowing what she was going to say.

“A stray kitten,” she said with a smile, shifting the blanket to reveal the small head of a young kitten, it having a white face with a black spot around one eye and two black ears. “It’s why they’ve been gone for so long, and they refused to leave her, so we have another mouth to feed now. I reckon she’s about eight maybe nine weeks so we’ll have to take her to a vet in the morning and get her all her jabs.”

Dean let out a groan and titled his head back, looking up at the ceiling. Two cats he could deal with, but three?

“Baby, you can’t just adopt every stray kitten you see on the street,” Dean said.

“I could if I wanted to,” she disagreed. “But this was more Sadie’s doing than Crookshanks’, your cat’s to blame this time, not mine.”

“Give me strength,” Dean muttered before he sent a scowl to his father when he saw his amused expression as he sat back in his seat and crossed his arms.

“Can’t win an argument?” He asked.

“No, never, not even Bobby’s done than yet,” he responded.

“Just like your mother,” he said, a fond smile pulling at his face.

“Well, Sammy, congratulations, you’ve just gotten yourself a kitten,” Hermione said, kicking the door closed and removing the kitten from the blanket, placing it in Sam’s arms before he could protest.

Now that the blanket was no longer covering it, Dean could see that the cat’s body, legs and tail were black, but its paws and stomach were white.

“So, what’s her name?”

Sam blinked at her, his eyes darting down to the cat and then up to her. “I don’t want a cat.”

“Tough luck, this is not about what you want, this is about protecting and saving the life of this helpless little kitten.”

“Then why can’t you or Dean have it?”

“I’ve got Crookshanks and Dean has Sadie, I don’t want to risk either of them becoming jealous, so by default, she’s yours. Don’t be so heartless, look how sad she looks. She just wants to be loved, so love her, Sammy, love her like I know you can.”

“I don’t want a cat, Hermione,” he responded.

She sighed. “Alright, I promise not to cut your hair when you’re sleeping, no matter of the fact you have mop and loo brush babies for hair. And you can sleep through an earthquake and there’s not a place I can’t break into, so we both know I’ll be in and out before you wake.”

“You’ll stop picking on my hair?”

“For a week? Sure,”

“Forever,”

“A month? I can do that,” she nodded.

“Forever,” he repeated.

“Two months, but that’s going to be hard,” she said, looking pained.

“ _Forever_ , Hermione,”

“Fine, forever,” she scowled.

“Are they always like this?” His father asked.

“No, they’re usually much worse,” Dean said and his father snorted.

“Just like when you were kids,” he shook his head.

“She needs a name, Sammy, don’t keep her waiting,” Hermione said.

Sam sighed and looked down to the little kitten laid out in his arms and she titled her head back and meowed up at him. “Patches,” he said.

“That’s a rubbish name,” Hermione commented instantly.

“It’s my cat, I pick the name.”

“Yeah, but not a rubbish one, put some thought into it,” she said.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Oreo,”

“No,”

“Checkers,”

“Please,” she scoffed.

“Boots,”

“I like Muffin,”

“Of course you’d name a cat after food,” Sam said.

“I like it, what you do think, Dean?” Hermione asked, turning to look at him and his father chuckled when his eyes widened at being dragged into their argument.

“You can’t ask him, he named his cat after a Beatles song,” Sam said.

“It’s a great song, too, don’t you dare diss The Beatles,” she said, pointing a threatening finger in his face. “I like Domino; I think it suits her, don’t you?”

“How is that any different to Checkers?”

“Easy, it’s better,” she said as if it were obvious.

Sam sighed. “Domino,” he agreed and Hermione smiled smugly.

“I knew...” She trailed off.

“What?” Dean asked.

“They’re here, I can feel them.”

“What?”

“Daeva’s, they’re here,” she said, darting over to the window and she looked out of it, seeing the shadows on the ground.

“Shit,” Dean mumbled, coming up beside her. “They’ve got us trapped, we’ll never get out in time. We need a source of light, can you do anything?”

Hermione’s eyes darted over to his father and up to him. “Yes, my otter,” she answered.

Dean was confused for a few seconds before it all clicked in his head, and the pieces fell into place as he remembered her little otter that she used to fight off dark creatures.

“Dad, get in the bathroom,” Dean instructed.

“Excuse me?” He said, also peering out the window from beside them.

“Get in the bathroom, they’re here for you.”

“I’m not going to let you fight my battles, Dean.”

“Get in the bathroom or I’ll deck you again,” Hermione threatened. “And this time I’ll make sure to break something.”

His father blinked slowly, his eyes moving between Sam, Dean and Hermione.

“She can get us out of this, she’s _very_ good at Hunting, but I need you in the bathroom out of the way,” Dean explained.

His father was reluctant to do as asked so Sam put his hand on his shoulder and guided him into the bathroom, pressing the little kitten into his father’s hands and waiting for both Crookshanks and Sadie to enter before he shut the door.

Hermione pulled her wand and backed up towards the bathroom with the brothers standing on either side of her and she took a deep breath.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Dean said, seeing the shadows getting closer.

“I just need to centre myself,” she responded, her gaze locked on the windows. Barely seconds later the windows were blown open and the shadows entered the room.

“ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” Hermione called, her wand gripped tightly in her hand and she stumbled back under the force of the spell leaving her wand and Dean steadied her.

“Wow,” Sam breathed out, seeing the blue-silver otter dancing about the room.

“Shut your eyes and don’t open them or it’ll blind you,” Hermione instructed.

A ball of light appeared in the centre of the room and grew brighter and brighter as the seconds ticked by, it being so bright they could see the light beneath their closed eyelids and through the fingers of their hands that were shielding their faces.

When the light died down, they all removed their hands from their faces and opened their eyes, searching the room to see it empty.

“They’re gone, hopefully for good.”

“Nicely done,” Dean praised, slinging his arm around Hermione’s shoulders.

The bathroom door opened and his father stepped out, still with a kitten held in his hands, and looking about the room with narrowed eyes.

“What the hell was that?” He asked. “I saw how bright that was from beneath the door, that shouldn’t have been possible.”

Hermione smiled innocently. “I used the flares the boys have with them, add a few extra chemicals and it changes the colour of the flame,” she lied.

“She’s _really_ smart,” Dean said proudly.

“I heard you say those strange words,” he said suspiciously but Hermione’s smile didn’t waver.

“Just me cursing in Latin, I almost set my hair on fire,” she lied once more and Sam snorted from beside her so she elbowed him in the ribs.

“What’s your otter?”

“Code words for the experiment I just did,” she answered.

“As much as I hate to say this, I think you better go in case they come back for you. Not only are they targeting you, but they’re using us as bait because we’re your biggest weakness,” Dean spoke. His father pulled his eyes from Hermione and nodded in agreement. “And if you need anything, just give us a call and we’ll be right there.”

Hermione stepped aside as the brothers walked out of the room with the father and after sharing a hug and some whispered words, Sam took the kitten back in his hands. As his father made to walk away, Dean spotted Hermione stood in the doorway, looking at his father pointedly.

“Don’t be even more of an arsehole than you already are, yeah? Text one of them at least once a week, no matter how busy you are, just so they know you’re safe and not to worry about you. Don’t give me a reason to punch you the next time we meet,” she spoke.

His father smirked at her. “I’ll be ready next time,” he assured her.

“I doubt it, you haven’t been on the receiving end of my uppercut, Bobby was so dizzy he had to take a nap, and when he woke up he couldn’t stand without falling over.”

“I look forward to it,” his father said amused, tipping his head towards her before turning and walking away.

“Only dad would approve of a woman that hit him in the face,” Sam rolled his eyes before he stepped back into the room along with him and Hermione.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 25

**Two weeks later...**

"Bubba!" Hermione squealed happily, jumping from the car before Dean had even come to a full stop, and she crossed over to the porch where Bobby stepped out from the house, a smile pulling at his face and his arms opening in expectancy of a hug.

"What the hell's wrong with him?" Sam asked with wide eyes as he stared out the window. Dean snorted at him, knowing exactly how he felt as he'd been through it before.

"Nothing's wrong with him," Dean replied. "He's always been like this with her," he shrugged.

"You grab the holy water, I'll knife him," Sam said, looking as horrified as one person possibly could when Hermione pulled back from Bobby with teary eyes and Bobby gave her a small smile and a laugh left him.

"Trust me, it's him, when I told you he was protective of her I wasn't joking. As hard as it is to wrap your head around, when she's nearby he's like a freaking soft as shit bunny with a trigger happy finger," Dean responded before he climbed out of the car and closed the door behind him once the three cats had jumped out, Crookshanks leading the way with Sadie and Domino following behind him a little more cautiously.

"I'm pretty sure there was only one of you last time," Bobby said, looking down at the cats approaching him with a slightly confused look on his face.

Hermione beamed up at him. "There was, Crookshanks adopted himself a stray when I had to go back to London a couple of months ago and he wouldn't leave without her, Sadie's like Crooks, she's half kneazle and belongs to Dean. And Domino is Sam's, Sadie adopted her a couple of weeks ago whilst we were working a case, but she's just a regular cat."

Bobby blinked in surprise and looked up to him when he saw them both approaching, with Sam eyeing Bobby as if he were about to drown him in holy water and then stab him with a silver knife.

"You hate cats," Bobby commented confused.

Dean shrugged. "They're not just any cats, and Sadie's basically my familiar, the same way Crookshanks is Hermione's," he replied, rolling his eyes when the white fluff-ball meowed at him and jumped at his legs. Bending down he picked her up and settled her in his arms whilst she stretched up, butting her head against his chin affectionately. Bobby blinked and Hermione let out a snigger.

Giving his head a shake, Bobby turned to Sam. "Sammy, it's been a while," he greeted, sharing a barely a-hug-hug with his younger brother. "How you doin'?"

Sam pulled back and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. "A lot better than I was," he answered. "Thanks to Hermione that is," he nodded to Hermione and she beamed at him, whilst briefly noting that Crookshanks stepped into the house as if he owned the place and seeing that Domino followed him, Sadie sprang from his arms, landed on her feet and walked into the house, too.

"And your dad?"

"He texted us the other day, he said he's fine," Dean answered, brushing the white cat hair from his t-shirt and then crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's only 'cause he's scared of what Hermione would do to him," Sam said amused.

Bobby looked to her with a raised eyebrow. "I hit him. Twice," she grinned.

"What?" Bobby said gruffly. "You didn't mention that in your calls, why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to see your face when I told you," she smiled. "So, I hit him twice, once for me, once for you. He got the message. I bust his lip and bloodied his nose, he never saw it coming."

"Good girl," he praised with a proud smirk, lifting his hand to ruffle her hair and she scowled at him, reaching up to try and right her mane of curls but it was no use so she just gave in. "We were in the area and thought we'd come for a visit, so obviously we're staying the night. What do you want for dinner?"

"Don't have much beside beer, bacon and eggs."

Hermione sighed but didn't look surprised. "Thought so, we stopped for groceries on the way and if you don't start taking better care of yourself, I'll charm your fridge and cupboards to prevent you from stocking it with rubbish."

"I've seen what you eat, don't be a hypocrite," he said gruffly.

"I'm not your age," she shrugged. "Everything I eat I burn off again with all the running around I do. Anyway, I'll put the groceries away and make a start on dinner, and I swear, if you've filled that room again, I won't be happy," she told him, before turning and stepping into the house, leaving them out on the porch.

Bobby turned to him with a look of warning on his face.

"I know, I know," Dean held his hands up. "Unless I want shooting I'm not allowed anywhere near her and I have to sleep on the couch," he said, before sticking his hands into his pockets.

"I thought you were joking about that," Sam said, looking to Bobby in surprise. "They're fully grown adults and have been together for over half a year."

"I don't care if they've been married longer than I've been alive, if he sets foot in her room whilst under my roof, I'll kill him," Bobby responded calmly, so calmly, Sam didn't know whether to laugh or be afraid for his brother.

"BUBBA! What the hell am I looking at right now!"

"Oh crap," Bobby grumbled. "She's found them."

"Found what?" Dean asked amused.

"Why on earth I have I found those scary arse paintings in the spare room! I threw them out! Did you go through the rubbish when we left!"

"Damn it," he muttered.

"I swear to Merlin and the Founders, if I find a single book with dog-eared pages in this pigsty you call a bedroom, I'll hit you with it and then hex you for good measure!"

Dean snorted when Bobby's face seemed to drain of colour. "There's books with dog-eared pages in there, isn't there?" He said knowingly.

"One or two," Bobby admitted with a grumble before he turned and walked into the house, presumably to find Hermione.

"Used batteries!" Hermione called. "Are you being serious! Did you just take everything out of the bin when I left!"

"Wow!" Sam breathed out as they both stepped into the house, their eyes darting to the staircase.

"They're not done, they argued for hours last time we were here," Dean said, heading for the kitchen and grabbing a beer from the newly stocked fridge, as well as some milk to fill some bowls which he placed on the floor for the three cats that followed him.

A crash sounded from above which was followed by a noise of pain, a door slamming shut and heavy footsteps stomping down the stairs. Bobby entered into the kitchen, a glare on his face and a hand rubbing at his ass-cheek as he stomped over to the fridge, pulled out a beer and glared at Sam when he laughed at him.

"I didn't say anything," Dean said, holding his hands up in surrender when Bobby turned the glare on him as he crossed over to the kitchen table, stepping around the three cats and he took a seat.

"I'll just wait until tomorrow when you're gone," he said.

Dean snorted at him. "I wouldn't hold your breath, Bobby. She's learned her lesson so I wouldn't be surprised if she just magically makes everything disappear or she burns it rather than putting them in the skip."

"Damn it!"

~000~000~000~

Dean always found it difficult to sleep without Hermione nearby, so he wasn't the least bit surprised when the early hours of the morning arrived and he was still wide awake, staring up at the living room ceiling with Sam's snores filling the otherwise silent room.

Everyone had retired to bed hours ago, Bobby and Hermione upstairs whilst he'd taken the couch and Sam was asleep on the floor with an old blow-up mattress. Sadie had squeezed herself in-between him and the back of the couch, her head resting on his shoulder and as far as he knew, Crookshanks was with Hermione upstairs and Domino was curled up on Sam's pillow above his head. Dean was amused to see that no matter how much his brother had put up a fight about not wanting the little kitten; he'd never heard him complain once since. In fact, within a week Domino had more cat treats and toys than Sadie and Crookshanks did combined. Dean had thought Sadie had him wrapped around her paw, but Sam was _so_ much worse.

He tried everything he could think of but he just couldn't sleep and deciding he could no longer put off the need to use the bathroom, he sighed to himself, threw off the blanket and shifted himself out from beneath Sadie. She didn't wake but she did shift, rolling over onto her side and then curling up into a ball. He had to watch what he was doing as he'd nearly tripped over Sam but he soon found his way to the stairs.

When he exited the bathroom and headed for the staircase to head back downstairs, he passed Hermione's room but even with the door closed, he heard pained groans coming from inside the room and without a care that Bobby might shoot him, he reached out and opened the door, stepping inside and closing it behind him.

It'd been years since he'd been in the bedroom but it hadn't changed since he'd last seen it; the furniture still being a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a bedside table and they looked old and worn. The wooden flooring was still scuffed and marked, the wallpaper still old-fashioned and discoloured and the wooden double bed still looked to be missing one of the baubles that added a bit of decoration. The only thing that looked nothing like he remembered was the rug that sat on the floor beside the bed, it looking a little newer than the last one.

Hearing the pained groans, his eyes darted to the bed where he saw Hermione sleeping. She lay on her side in the centre of the mattress and she faced away from him, her hair fanning out on the pillow behind her, and her body half covered by the blanket. She had the blanket pulled up to her face, snuggling it as if it were a teddy bear and her leg was thrown over the top of her cover, exposing her pale, soft skin to the slight chill in the room as well as his eyes. From what he could see, she was wearing one of his t-shirts which had ridden up and exposed her waist, and a pair of pink cotton sleep shorts, them hugging her hips and with the way she laid, they barely covered her ass. Dean felt himself stirring at the sight alone and he took a breath to calm himself.

She made the noise again and frowning slightly, he crossed over to the bed and climbed on behind her, wrapping her up in his arms and he started the routine of muttering 'Hey Jude' into her ear and his fingers tickling at her stomach in soothing patterns. He assumed he'd gotten to her before her nightmares had time to set in because it didn't take as long to settle her as it usually did and she was soon waking, her hand moving to cover his on her stomach, twining their fingers together.

"If Bobby finds you in here even I won't be able to stop him from shooting you, I'm too tired to cast a shield or apparate you out," she said sleepily, which was expected given she'd just woken up.

"I went to the bathroom and heard you, you were having a nightmare," he explained, nudging her hair aside and his nose nuzzling at her neck. She'd showered before bed, he could smell the apple scent of her hair and skin a lot stronger than usual and it was making him dizzy.

"How bad?" She asked.

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "I'd say about a three, just a few noises but you otherwise looked fine," he answered.

Being with her so long he understood the scale her nightmares would rate on, and it went from barely moving all the way up to setting things on fire and having magical outbursts. He'd seen her set the curtains on fire once and he'd shit himself before she'd put out the flames before any serious damage was caused. They'd fled the motel as soon as possible afterwards.

"I don't remember what happened so you must've stopped it before it got worse," she sighed.

"You're getting better," he commented.

And she was. The longer they were together, the less her nightmares seemed to terrorise her. When they'd first dating she'd have nightmares almost six times a week and sometimes more than once in a single night, but months later that had dropped by half. And the same could be said for him, the frequency of his nightmares had lessened, too.

"Hmmm," she hummed sleepily. "That's because of you, I always sleep better when you're with me. Have you been to sleep yet?"

"No, I've been trying but with Sam snoring, the uncomfortable couch and Sadie purring in my ear, it's difficult."

"Well, you know I won't kick you out, but if Bobby finds you in here, you're on your own."

He snorted at her. "Charming,"

"I've been spending too much time with you, I'm starting to pick up your habits. Now, hush, I'm sleeping here, and you know how cranky Crookshanks gets when you wake him," she said and he briefly lifted his head from her neck to see the ginger fur-ball sprawled out at the foot of the bed.

"I'll sneak out in the morning so Bobby doesn't see me leave," he said, as he buried his face back against her neck, placing a kiss against her skin and pulling her more firmly against him, already feeling sleep settling in.

~000~000~000~

Dean woke before Hermione did and judging by the light shining in through the window, he guessed it to still be early morning. Knowing he should leave before Bobby found him there, he carefully unwound himself from Hermione and climbed off the bed, giving a yawn and pushing a hand through his hair as he made for the door.

He grabbed the handle and pulled it open, stumbling back in surprise and being wide awake when he found himself on the receiving end of a murderous glare from a dressed for the day Bobby, and a rifle pointed directly in his face. He spied Sam little ways down the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and not even bothering to hide his amusement with the situation.

"Bobby," Dean greeted slowly.

In response, Bobby shifted the rifle until it was no longer directed at his face, but instead at his groin and Dean automatically felt his hands move to cover his manhood, Sam's laughter bursting from him.

"What did I say?" Bobby asked, his eyes narrowed dangerously and his voice low and gruff.

"Nothing happened," he said as calmly as he could. "I went to the bathroom and I heard her, she was having a nightmare, I'm the only one that can calm her. If I didn't she might've set something on fire or had a magical outburst during her sleep, she's done it before, I've seen it. She sleeps better when I'm with her, her nightmares aren't are vivid or frequent," he explained.

"I don't know if I should believe you," Bobby said gruffly.

Dean barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "I'm not gunna lie about that, am I?"

A sleepy yawn sounded from behind him and they both turned to look towards the bed, seeing Hermione's sitting up and stretching with her hands above her head. She let out a sound of satisfaction before throwing the blanket off herself and climbing from the bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and brushing her hair back from her face as she made her way over to the door.

When she realised he was blocking her exit, she blinked slowly and then her eyes darted between him, Bobby and the rifle directed at his groin. She rolled her eyes but let out a snort of amusement.

"Morning," she greeted cheerfully. "I had a nightmare, you know I have them, you've witnessed it. Dean's the only that calm me, nothing happened," she said. "So I'd appreciate it if you didn't threaten my boyfriend in such a way. And now I'm awake, I'll make a start on breakfast and then we can see about getting that mess you call a study sorted and nicely organised."

She reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek before squeezing past him, reaching up to press a kiss to Bobby's cheek and then walking down the hallway. When she reached Sam she ruffled his hair, but she had to physically jump and stretch up to reach and he snorted at her.

"Come on, Samuel," she said, grabbing his hand in hers and dragging him towards the stairs. "You're the only one I can trust not to burn the eggs so you can help me with breakfast. By the way, Bubba," she said, looking over her shoulder at them. "Is that a new cap? I like it, it suits you, it really brings out your eyes, very nice."

Dean snorted as she skipped down the stairs and dragged Sam behind her, and Bobby turned to look at him, reluctantly lowering the rifle back to his side.

"You got away with your balls still attached...This time," he muttered before following after Hermione and Sam.

~000~000~000~

**Two weeks later...**

"Hang on," Dean frowned slightly, interrupting Sam as he sat reading aloud from the newspaper. They were currently sat in a diner having an early lunch and Sam was on the lookout for potential cases, but after mentioning a death, Dean was sure he'd recognised the name. "What was the name again?"

Sam looked confused but returned his eyes to the newspaper. "Daniel Elkins, why?"

Dean's frowned deepened. "I know that name, I'm sure it's mentioned in dad's journal. He was murdered?"

"Possibly," Sam answered. "It doesn't actually say if it's suspicious or not, but chances are he was, but if his name's in dad's journal, does that mean they know each other? In which case, do you want to investigate?"

"It's worth checking it out," Dean nodded. "Where are we headed?"

"Manning, Colorado,"

Dean blinked before letting out a snort. "Well, then we're definitely going, case or not, Hermione will be happy."

"Why's that?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

"That's where she lives."

Sam blinked in surprise. "That can't be a coincidence, right? Someone from dad's journal ends up dead and lives in the town Hermione moved to."

Dean shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. She told me she chose it randomly from a map, no other reasoning behind it. It's a bit of a drive so we'll have to refuel and leave straight from here."

"Where we off to now?" Hermione asked, sliding into the booth beside him after finishing up placing their orders at the counter.

"Home," Dean answered.

"Home?" She frowned in confusion.

"Manning, Colorado," he clarified.

Her eyes lit up. "Really, why?"

"There's been a death, someone who's mentioned in dad's journal so we're gunna check it out. If it turns out to be nothing it'll give you the chance to check on your house and store."

"Great, we leaving after finishing up here?"

"We'll stop for fuel first but then we're heading straight over," he nodded. "Depending on what's closer, yours or Elkins', we'll stop by first and do some digging."

"Well, if we're going to mine we'll have to stop for some groceries, there won't be anything in the house even remotely edible. So you know what that means," she grinned.

Dean let out a groan and his head flopped back against the back of the booth whilst Sam let out a laugh.

"Walmart," he grumbled. "I _hate_ Walmart."

~000~000~000~

With the trip to Walmart, pits-stops, bathroom breaks and traffic, almost nine and a half hours later found them arriving at Manning, Colorado and seeing as Elkin's place was closer than Hermione's house, they stopped there first after Sam had done some digging to find the address.

It had taken them a little while to find the cabin but once they did, they didn't even have to break in with it being unlocked, the door left open and one of the windows having been smashed. At seeing the sight they all shared looks before their hands immediately went to their weapons as they slowly entered the cabin, Dena first, Sam next and Hermione last.

As soon as they stepped inside they knew why it'd been unlocked; it'd been broken into and the entire place looked to have ransacked in search for something, no matter what it was Dean just hoped it hadn't been found. They split up, Hermione taking the bedroom whilst Sam took the kitchen and he handled the living room, which is where he found a journal that was similar to his father's, as well as a message including the combination to a PO box.

"I've got something," Dean called, Hermione and Sam returning to the living room with looks of curiosity.

"That looks like dad's," Sam commented.

"I know, and I found a combination to a PO box, too."

"A mail drop?" Sam questioned in surprise.

"Probably, just like dad."

"I'm getting the feeling your father might be involved with Elkins," Hermione mused. "Do you want to head over there now before going home? I know you; your curiosity won't let it wait until the morning even if it is getting late."

Dean nodded. "Hopefully it'll shed some light on what's going on around here, we can stop for takeout on the way back."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I've had enough of takeout and want a home-cooked meal. I don't care if we don't get back until the early hours of the morning, I'm cooking."

"Alright then," he said amused. "We better get a move on, if I've found this, then maybe the one that made all this mess did, too."

~000~000~000~

Dean honestly wasn't expecting to see his father that evening. They'd only been at the PO box a few minutes and after finding a letter addressed to his father, they all realised that Hermione's comment about his father being involved was right. They weren't sure what was going on, but it definitely had something to do with his father, and that was only confirmed when he'd heard his father's voice.

"Boys," he spoke.

Dean spun around so fast he made himself dizzy, being surprised when he saw his father stood in front of him with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and that half-smile, half-smirk on his face as his eyes darted between him, Sam and Hermione.

"Dad?" He questioned in surprise, but that didn't stop him from approaching him and sharing a hug and Sam did the same once he stepped back.

"Hermione," his father greeted, his mouth twitched in amusement when she pursed her lips.

"John," she said with a tip of her head.

"What? No broken nose?" He asked, bringing his hands up towards his face in a motion to protect his face and block an attack.

"Not unless you want one, in which case, I'd be glad to give you one. I do so hate to disappoint people," she replied.

"No thanks, my nose hurts just thinking about your last sucker punch," he said amused.

"Just your nose?"

"My mouth, too," he nodded.

"This is so weird," Sam muttered, shaking his head with his eyes darting between them.

"I take it you're here for this," Dean said, holding the letter up in his hand and drawing his father's attention away from his girlfriend.

"Yes," he answered, reaching for it and taking it from his hand. "But what are you doing here?"

"Saw the notice in the paper, recognised the name from your journal, found his cabin trashed and found a message mentioning a PO box," he answered but his father didn't look surprised, rather his attention was on the letter as his eyes scanned the information it contained.

Various emotions crossed his face but the most obvious was anger and he let out a curse beneath his breath, his hand coming up to brush through his hair and the letter crumpled in his tight grip. Dean supposed his father didn't like what the letter had contained.

"Care to share with the rest of us?" Sam asked, watching his father carefully.

"Elkins' was supposed to be helping me track down a weapon, something that is said to be able to kill a supernatural being, demons included."

Dean felt himself blinking in surprise. That wasn't possible, was it?

"But it seems Elkins' lied to me, he had it, and he has all this time. You searched his place? Did you find a colt?"

"No," Dean answered. "There was nothing that you wouldn't expect."

His father sighed in annoyance. "Which means whatever killed him, probably has it. We need to get it back."

"I take it you know what we're dealing with then," Hermione said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Vampires," he answered.

Dean almost laughed when she let out a groan and her titled head back to look up at the quickly darkening sky.

"Fantastic, my favourite," she said cheerfully. "I can't wait to run into those creepy bastards. And I swear, if they target me first, heads will roll," she said. Sam snorted, Dean rolled his eyes and his father raised an amused eyebrow. "You know, because you have to cut their heads off," she clarified.

"I understood the first time," he replied, looking to Dean amused.

"She's always like this, I don't know how we make it out half of the time, rather than fighting or firing off shots, she's too busy cracking jokes."

"Are they or are they not funny?" She said, looking to him with slightly narrowed eyes.

"They're funny," he admitted.

"Then stop complaining, the only reason you're still alive is because I have to prevent your stupid arse from doing stupid things," she replied.

"I'll give you that one," he tipped his head, seeing no point in denying it. He was the rash one, she was the brains.

"You have no choice, you know I'm right," she shrugged. "Anyway, it's getting late and I'm hungry, so we can put this off until the morning when we've had some sleep and food. Fresh eyes and fresh mind and all that," she said, before looking to his father and he raised an eyebrow. "You have a motel yet?"

"No, I came straight here," he answered.

"Okay then, there's no point in splitting up, if these vampires know we're onto them there's safety in numbers, so it's probably better if you come with us," she said before she turned and left back to the car, not even bothering to look behind her to see if they were following her.

The walk to the Impala was quiet and a little bit awkward as things between Sam and their father hadn't yet been resolved and Dean was glad when they finally reached the car, Hermione having beaten them there but he supposed she'd done it on purpose so she could hide the magical books Sam often read in the back seat.

"What are you waiting for?" His father asked, seeing that none of them made a move to get in the car.

"Them," Hermione said, pointing towards the three differently coloured and sized cats that came from a bunch of trees off to the left, and he blinked in surprise when she opened the passenger's side door and they all jumped in without instruction, before she climbed in, too.

Dean knew his father was surprised that he had to sit in the back with Sam but he didn't say anything; Hermione's place was beside him, no matter who was in the car. When he climbed into the driver's side he sent her an amused look when she shifted her feet onto his lap before he'd even closed the door, but he didn't comment, though he knew his father was more than surprised by it. And even more so when Crookshanks sprawled himself out on Hermione's lap, Domino did the same to Sam, and Sadie clambered up onto the back of his seat, laying down and curling herself around the back of his neck.

"I've seen it all now," his father muttered.

"I assure you, you most certainly haven't," Hermione replied, sharing a knowing smile with him and Sam.

The journey to Hermione's house was mostly quiet with only the sound of the radio to fill the car and occasionally he and Hermione would hum along with him ignoring the looks Sam and his father would share when they did so.

When they finally reached her house, he couldn't help the smile that pulled at his face when he turned onto her street and her house came into view. Whilst she did live on a street that contained other houses, Hermione's was on the corner and separate from the rest of the houses, giving it a sense of privacy.

Her house looked a lot newer than the other houses, too, so it had probably been built at a later date which would explain the separation between them. The brickwork was dark, as were the doors and window panes, and when he pulled onto the drive off to the side of the house, the lanterns that were on the walls switched on at the sensors being triggered.

"Where are we?" His father asked, his eyes taking in the house before them and then scanning the quiet street.

"My house," she said, looking over the seat to him and he looked surprised. "I just happen to live here, though I haven't been back in months. You boys wait here for a moment, I just need to switch off the security system," she said, sending him a pointed look and he nodded, understanding it had something to do with the magical barriers around her house.

She shifted Crookshanks off her lap and he meowed in protest but moved to sit in his lap to get some attention whilst she climbed out of the car, headed for the door, unlocked it and stepped inside and then shutting the door behind her.

"I never asked, how'd you meet her?" His father questioned.

Dean twisted to look over the back of his seat, eyeing his father strangely. "I was working a case here and needed some research material, she owns a book store."

His father raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't seem like the type," he commented.

Dean snorted. "You don't know her, she's obsessed with learning and she's very smart, I've never met anyone like her. More often than not she's got a book in her hand, research is her forte and she's good at it."

"That doesn't explain why she's hunting with you," he pointed out.

"She saved my life." He gave him the look, the one that told him to continue and to do so fast. "I underestimated the number of things I was up against and got stabbed with a shard of glass. She turned up, scared them off and that's the last thing I remember before passing out. When I woke she'd brought me home with her," he pointed to the house, "And she'd patched me. I'd have died if it weren't for her. The next day she helped me track them down and we took care of them. The only reason I knew what they were is that she helped me with research. I'd learned a few surprising things about her the day before and then I guess I just asked if she wanted to hunt with me, she said yes and we haven't looked back since," he shrugged.

"It's dangerous to get a civilian involved," his father said.

"Hermione can take care of herself," Sam said, pointedly looking at his father's nose and Dean almost laughed at the glare that was sent his way in response.

"She's not a civilian, Bobby told you she was an ally to Hunters so she obviously knew about the supernatural and she'd known Bobby three years before we actually met. This isn't her first time hunting either."

"Meaning?" He asked.

Dean frowned thoughtfully, knowing he'd have to bend the truth. "Before moving here from Britain, she was in the police force for a year before she became a Hunter. She worked for a specialist government department that knows about the existence of the supernatural," he explained and his father's eyes widened in surprise, which he knew was a feat. Nothing surprised his father much these days. "She was a Hunter for five years but her partner was killed and though it wasn't her fault, she blamed herself and she gave up hunting and moved over here. She said her life was peaceful, but she was bored and she missed it, so that's why she agreed to be my partner when I asked, and that's how I met her."

Dean turned away from his father's curious gaze when he saw the lights inside the house switch on and the door opened, Hermione peeking her head out.

"Would you boys mind bringing in the groceries and packing them away, you know where everything goes, Dean," she called. "I just need to get the bedrooms sorted out and then I'll be right down. And Sammy, if you have any laundry you want doing whilst we're here just leave it in the bathroom and I'll do it later. It wouldn't be the first time I've seen your underwear."

"What!" Sam exclaimed, looking mortified.

Dean smirked and looked to Sam. "Did you honestly think I was the one to do our laundry? What did you think, I washed it in the bathtub with soap?"

"Yes!"

Dean snorted. "Hermione does our laundry, she has for months. She takes them to a Laundromat."

"Dean! You let _your_ girlfriend wash my clothes?" He said, looking scandalised.

"No, you do. It's not my fault you just assumed I'd do your laundry for you. I don't even like doing my own which is why Hermione does it."

"I have to say, Sam," Hermione said from the doorway, looking amused. "Your Justice League boxers are my favourite. Be sure to wear them when you next get a woman starkers, she'll love them."

Dean burst out laughing, his father snorted and Sam's face flamed red as he buried his face in his hands, humiliated.

Smiling to herself proudly, Hermione left the door open and Dean climbed out the car and then went to the trunk whilst Sadie and Domino followed Crookshanks inside. Thankfully, Hermione hadn't gone too overboard whilst they'd stopped for groceries and with her magic, she'd been able to make sure the food items didn't spoil until they were properly stored away. Sam grabbed their duffle bags and he and his father followed him into the house, and while he went straight over to the kitchen to put the groceries away, he noticed his father and brother looking around curiously, their attention being pulled by the many photos that were littered about the room. He just hoped she'd done something to stop them from moving as that most certainly wouldn't go over well with his father.

"Okay," Hermione said, coming down the stairs and stepping into view. "I only have one spare bedroom but there are two beds in there, so if you don't want to share, one of you will have to sleep on the couch I'm afraid. The bathroom's upstairs and the first door on the left, feel free use the shower and whatnot, there's towels in the cupboard behind the bathroom door. I'll make a start on dinner and I'll shout you when it's done, in the meantime, you'll have to entertain yourselves," she said, before heading over to the kitchen and coming to stand beside him as he finished putting the last of the items in the fridge.

"I'm pretty sure there was only one bed last time," Dean muttered so his father wouldn't hear and he stole a look where he saw his father taking a seat on the couch, his eyes still searching his surroundings whilst Sam headed for the stairs, probably to shower.

"There was, with James and Albus they're small enough that they can share a double bed and have more space to play in the room. I just duplicated the bed so there's now two of them," she said quietly in response. "Whilst I altered the security wards, I also put up an anti-vampire ward as a precaution. They won't be able to enter the house as long as it's up and there's nothing they can do to break through it."

Dean blinked in surprise. "That's handy," he replied.

"I'm working on a way to cast the same wards around the car without it interfering with the engine or radio, but it's tricky. But with my magic surrounding this house, it means demons can't get in either. With your father being here, I did a quick sweep of the house and hid away any magical items and books so he can't stumble upon them and I made sure to shut off the floo network so Harry can't call or come on through, and the anti-port key and apparition wards mean only I can enter the house using those methods. If he does show up, he'll have to come to the front door. Anyway, what do you want for dinner?"

"Sam likes spaghetti," he said.

"I know, he devoured it the last time I made it," she said amused. "You want pie for dessert?"

"When have I ever turned down pie?"

She snorted at him before she reached up to press a kiss to his cheek, him noting from the corner of his eye his father watching them interact.

"Okay, you grab the flour, salt and sugar from the pantry for me, and I'll make a start on the pasta. I'll have to cook without magic so it'll a little longer than usual."

"That's fine, but I expect two pies as compensation."

She snorted at him. "Of course you do," she said amused. "Apple?"

He nodded. "I kind of want a blueberry pie, too."

"Now I know why you put blueberries in the trolley when you thought I wasn't looking," she shook her head.

"Cart, shopping cart," he corrected.

She rolled her eyes, "Whatever, just get the ingredients from the pantry and grab me a mixing bowl and a rolling pin from the cupboard whilst you're at it," she said, giving him a shove in the direction of the pantry.

He did as told and grabbed everything she'd asked for, dropping them on the breakfast bar when he returned and saw that she'd already made a start on boiling the pasta and she was currently dicing tomatoes as she hummed to herself.

He didn't leave the kitchen but instead took a seat at the breakfast bar, happy to watch her as she pottered about the kitchen preparing dinner, before she turned to the breakfast bar and made a start on the pie and they quietly chatted between themselves as she did so.

"Would you mind peeling and cutting the apples for me?" She asked, "There's no chance of you burning something at least," she said.

He snorted but stood from the stool, pulled the apples and blueberries from the fridge, took a knife from the knife block on the counter and came to stand beside her as he peeled and then cut the apples according to her instructions.

Sometime later found Dean leaving Hermione alone in the kitchen to take his duffle bag upstairs and drop it in the bedroom and to check on the cats who'd been far too quiet for his liking, and he found them all curled up on the end of Hermione's bed. When he returned to the kitchen he was surprised to see his father sitting at the breakfast bar, silently watching Hermione as she stirred the sauce and added garlic and herbs whilst she hummed to herself.

Giving his father a curious look, he strode to the fridge where he pulled out several beers and removed the caps, placing one on the counter beside Hermione, reaching over to place one on the breakfast bar for his father and he retrieved another one when he heard Sam coming down the stairs. He stepped into the kitchen with damp hair and dressed in a t-shirt and drawstring pyjama bottoms, and Dean slid the beer across the breakfast bar and Sam caught it easily before it tipped off the edge.

He took a seat beside their father and took a long swig from the bottle. "That smells good, spaghetti?" He asked.

"Yep," Hermione replied, keeping her attention on her cooking. "I know it's your favourite, so I made pie for Dean."

"It's your favourite?" His father questioned in surprise.

Dean's eyes darted over to his brother and father, watching them warily. It had been his mother's favourite and signature dish and when she died, his father had avoided it at every opportunity he had, which is why Dean always made sure to order it for Sam when they went to diners without his father being present.

"Since when?"

"Since forever," Sam muttered. "Of course, you wouldn't know that 'cause you were never around."

"I won't be having arguing in this house," Hermione spoke up, turning around and pointing the wooden spoon in her hand at them threateningly. "I don't care what issues you have with one another, tonight you will put them aside and you can sort them out later. This is a non-hostile environment. I'm not above punching either of you," she said in warning, before quickly turning around and putting the spoon back in the pan of sauce when it almost dripped onto the floor.

Dean saw them both blinking in surprise and he brought his beer to his mouth to hide his amusement, though he was glad Hermione had stopped the argument before it had started. Dean hated when they fought and he was always stuck in the middle, he just wanted to enjoy the fact he had both his father and his little brother in the same room after so long of being apart and if arguments could be avoided, it was even better for him.

"Dinner should be ready in ten minutes so if you haven't already, get yourselves cleaned up. If my nephews can do so, as grown men you can, too."

Dean snorted when he saw the affronted look that crossed their faces but his father did stand from the breakfast bar and head for the stairs, and knowing his father, Dean wouldn't be surprised if he had a look around whilst he was up there, he just hoped Hermione had hidden her magical things somewhere he wouldn't be able to find them.

By the time his father returned, he and Sam had already helped Hermione set the table and carry over the food, before taking a seat at the kitchen table with him sitting beside Hermione and his father and Sam sitting opposite them. Dinner was quiet and tense and the only reason Dean had been able to stand it was Hermione's hand gripping his tightly beneath the table. He was glad once dessert had been dished out and everyone had finished eating because he honestly didn't know how much more of the awkward silence he'd be able to take.

"I'll do the dishes," Sam said, as he helped Hermione to clear the table.

"I don't mind doing them," she replied.

"You cooked, it's only fair I do my part with the cleaning," he said. "You should get to bed, I know you didn't sleep well last night and you look exhausted."

The night before had been a bad one for Hermione as the case they'd been working hit home for her, she didn't say why but it was clear to them she'd taken it personally, so Dean had assumed it'd reminded her of either something that had happened during the war, or a case she may have worked with her partner before his death. They'd been sharing a motel room and usually, Sam slept right through, but her nightmares had been so bad, she'd even woken him and she'd shattered the vase of flowers in the room, too.

"Thanks, Sammy," she said with a small smile and she turned and headed for the stairs, only the sound of a cell phone ringing stopped her in her tracks.

"It's not mine," Dean said.

"Or mine," Sam said.

"It's not mine either," his father said.

Frowning, Hermione headed over to her jacket that was thrown over the back of the couch and she pulled her phone from the pocket, looking down at the screen confused.

"Bobby?" Dean asked.

"No," she shook her head. "He wouldn't call me this late unless it's an emergency, I don't recognise the number," she frowned, before answering the phone. "Hello...Harry?"

Dean shared a look with Sam, the both of them knowing that if her friend had wanted to get in touch with her he'd have done it magically, which meant she must've prevented him from doing so with their father being with them.

"No, I haven't received any of your messages...It's a long story...Why? What's going on?" She took a sudden intake of breath and stumbled back, gripping the back of the armchair for balance and Dean felt himself standing from the table and taking a step towards her but she looked to him, shaking her head. "Harry, I swear if you're lying to me...But it's impossible, he can't be...What's the point in it all?... You think he's up to something...I see your point...I honestly don't know, I've got a lot going on here...Yes, I've been taking care of myself...I'll let you know as soon as I've made my decision, but I honestly don't think it'll be good for me...You know what he did, the damage he caused to my life... I know...Love you, too..." She finished before ending the call, snapping the phone shut and dropping it onto the armchair, her hand coming to run through her hair.

"You alright, Baby?" Dean asked. Of course, he'd only heard half of the conversation but what he had heard and seeing her pale face and her breathing deeply did nothing but cause worry.

"Not really, no," she breathed out, her gaze locked on the floor. "Sammy, be a dear and get me something stronger than beer, there should be some whisky in the pantry. There's a door at the back which leads to the cellar, you'll find it there."

Sam eyed her worriedly but nodded and did as she asked, disappearing into the pantry, meanwhile Dean stayed where he was, watching her worriedly while his father looked at her curiously.

"What did Harry want? Did he threaten my life again?"

Her mouth twitched. "He hasn't threatened your life in months, the kids love you which means he wouldn't do anything to harm you, well, that and he's scared of me... He's one of my brothers," she said, looking to his father when he looked a little confused. "He didn't quite like Dean when they first met, being overprotective and all that, but with my nephews and my sister-in-law having taken to him so well, he's coming around."

"You've met her family?" His father asked surprised.

"Most of them," Dean answered. "She's got a _big_ family, half a dozen brothers and sisters, the spouses and a dozen nieces and nephews." His father blinked at him.

Sam returned with an unopened bottle of whiskey in hand and Hermione moved over to the kitchen, pulling glasses from the cupboard and moving over to the table, retaking her seat beside him while Sam retook his seat, too. Hermione took the whiskey bottle and opened it, pouring a more than decent amount into her glass before placing the bottle in the centre of the table and she sat back in her chair, crossing her arms, her eyes locked on the table as she sipped from her glass.

She didn't look up or speak, just continued to stare and Dean wasn't sure how much longer he could take the silence or the worry.

"Baby? What did Harry want?" He asked.

She blinked slowly and lifted her head, looking as though she'd forgotten they were even there and she was surprised to see them. She shook her head and sat up, setting her half-empty glass on the table and folding her hands around it as her body leaned forward and her arms rested on the table.

"He's resurfaced."

Dean looked to Sam, them both looking confused. "Who's resurfaced?"

"Lazarus," she spoke, her eyes clouding over in pain and anger and for Dean, something just seemed to click into place and he took a deep breath.

"It's him, isn't it? He's the one that killed your partner."

"He killed Jake," she said quietly. "He killed Jake and the thirteen hostages he'd taken." She looked up to him, catching his gaze and he briefly noted his father's curious eyes and Sam's worried frown. "I never told you but he almost killed me, too. He left me for dead. I would've died if Harry hadn't gotten worried that I hadn't checked in with the office like I was meant to. He found me and took me to hospital, it was touch and go for a while but they were able to patch me up."

His hand came up to rest on the table and he grasped her hand in his, feeling her tightening her hold on his hand.

"The majority of my department were on red alert, he'd killed one of our own and we all wanted the bastard dead, but we couldn't find him, he'd disappeared. I gave up knowing he was gone and that's when I moved here. They've kept an eye out for him even if four years have passed since Jake died, Harry just called to tell me he's resurfaced. It's all hands on deck and even though I'm not on their payroll anymore, they want me there to help them finish it."

"That means you have to go back to London?"

She shook her head. "No, he's been spotted in Europe several times, they're tracking his movements and they're expecting him in Paris within the next twenty-four hours."

"You should go," he told her.

She blinked in surprise. "But I'm needed here."

"There's three of us, more than enough to handle what's going on. You're needed, you have the chance to get justice for your partner and all the people he killed, not to mention what he did to you. It's not your fault what happened but if you're there helping to take him down, it may just give you the closure you need and help you to forgive yourself."

"He's right, Hermione," Sam spoke and she tore her eyes away from him and to Sam. "Take it from me, someone who can understand losing someone you cared for, going to Paris and helping to take him out is exactly what you need. It'll help you. We can handle things on this end, but you have the chance to put a difficult part of your past behind you and you should take it."

She took a deep breath and turned her eyes back to him, locking gazes.

"We'll be fine," he promised her.

"Okay, then I guess I'm going to Paris," she said. "I'll have to leave soon, everyone's already enroute and I'll have to meet them there so I can be debriefed on the plan to take him out."

"What exactly are you looking for?" His father asked and they all looked to him. "Dean said you were a Hunter before moving here. So what are you up against?"

Hermione didn't bat an eyelash at his father's words regarding what he'd told him.

"The same as what you're up against here, a vampire."

His father raised an eyebrow. "You said the majority of your people have been called to help take him out, how many is that?"

"Before I left nearly four years ago there were just over fifty field agents and there's probably at least another twenty by now. They can't leave England without protection so I reckon it'll be between thirty and forty agents, including myself."

"Why so many to take down one vampire?" He asked, but even Dean heard the mocking tone to his voice so he wasn't surprised when Hermione's eyes narrowed and her knuckles turned white when she gripped her glass of whiskey harder.

"Lazarus is different, he's not just a regular vampire. You don't know everything about the supernatural, John. You may have been doing this longer than me, but you don't know more than me. I am very well trained and I have knowledge you'd kill to have. I have quite a few specialities under my belt, translating ancient texts, languages and runes being one of them. But vampires, in particular, are my forte."

Dean knew that, she'd told him more information about vampires than he'd known existed and with them technically being magical rather than supernatural, it made sense that she knew more about them than he did. He knew she'd grown up learning about them as a child when she was in school, so it was only natural that she knew more about them than any Hunter alive.

"I wouldn't expect you to know this, but there's actually two different types of vampires. The one you're familiar with drinks human blood, has sharp fangs, super senses and speed and can only be killed by taking off the head. Lazarus isn't like that, he's powerful are far more dangerous. He's a different kind of vampire, one that's so rare they're only seen once every ten years, and giving how many vampires there are in existence, that's saying something."

His father raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat and his mouth twitching, looking as though he were enjoying her anger being directed towards him. Dean wouldn't blame Hermione if she wanted to punch him again and he wouldn't stop her either. His father could be a dick when he wanted to be.

"And what makes him different? Why's he so special?"

"As I just said, he's powerful. On a rare occasion, when a human is turned into a vampire, they have been known to develop special gifts or abilities that set them apart from the others, and it makes them superior. Lazarus, if he wishes to, can actually survive on animal blood which means he doesn't leave a trail of dead bodies behind when he's being tracked. It's been recorded throughout history that one vampire developed the gift of telepathy, whilst one had the ability to turn himself invisible and another could control the element of fire."

Dean couldn't help but stare at Hermione in surprise as she'd never told him about it before and Sam was just as surprised whereas his father watched Hermione with a blank expression on his face.

"Lazarus, we're not entirely sure what his ability is as no one's born witness to it yet, but that doesn't matter. Aside from his ability, he's also stronger and faster than a regular vampire, and he can't be killed by simply cutting off his head. His head and limbs have to be removed from his body, everything has to then be burned in a fire that contains a blend of lavender, rosemary and salt, and then the ashes have to be buried beneath an oak tree that is at least five hundred years old and it has to be done on the night of the full moon, which happens to be two days from now. If a single step is overlooked or is done incorrectly, he'll return to his form once more. That's why he's known as Lazarus."

"I'm not sure I believe you," his father said.

"I don't give a shit what you believe. I've no reason to lie to you, I don't even like you," she replied, and Sam covered his snigger with a cough. His father kept his gaze on hers, Dean watching to see who would blink first. Hermione won.

"What do your parents think about all of this? Do they know what you do for a living?"

"They're dead," she replied, his father's tense form relaxing slightly at her words. "They were murdered when I was eighteen."

"Supernatural?"

"No, humans," she shook her head. "I'm the last of my bloodline."

His eyes darted over to Dean and then back to her with a confused frown. "Dean said you had siblings and nieces and nephews."

"Not biologically, when I was eleven I was accepted into an exclusive boarding school for those with special talents, and since then my best friend's parents practically raised me as their own. I spent more time with his family than I did my parents, I only saw them during the summer but they worked a lot. So while my biological parents are dead, I do have family back in Britain. As for my _job_ , they worry but they know I can take care of myself and they know that I'll do whatever I want to with or without their approval. Back to vampires, it's highly unlikely that whoever you're up against has an ability, as I previously said they're very rare, but if you notice that they do seem to be stronger, just give me a call and I'll be here as soon as possible."

"You'll be on another continent, we won't have the time to wait for you," his father.

"Trust me when I say, my government has resources available to us that allow for faster travel times."

"You have access to a jet?" His father raised an eyebrow.

"Something like that," she smirked. "But I better get some things packed and head out if I want to beat the others to Paris."

She removed her hand from Dean's, downed the rest of her whiskey and then stood and left upstairs.

"I'm starting to like her," his father commented.

"Really? Then why were you aggravating her?" Dean replied, sitting back in his chair and reaching for the beer he hadn't yet finished, which he knew his father had noticed. It was the same beer he'd pulled from the fridge whilst Hermione had been cooking, whilst both he and Sam had already had three each.

"It's fun," he shrugged his shoulders, reaching for the whiskey bottle and pouring himself some into a glass before sipping from it. "At least she's got good taste," he complimented, looking to the glass appreciatively.

Dean let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. "She won't hesitate to shoot you."

"That just makes it more entertaining for me," he replied.

"You've got a death wish, you've no idea what she's capable of. You weren't there when a shape-shifter threw an axe at her, I've never seen her so mad and I even felt sorry for the bastard once she'd finished with him. I killed him just to put him out of his misery."

"She's a firecracker," he said amused, lifting his glass in a toast before bringing it to his mouth.

Dean sighed before standing from the table, leaving the kitchen and heading for the stairs. He stepped into Hermione's bedroom seeing the three cats still asleep on the end of the bed and there was a pile of clothes on the floor beside the laundry basket, Dean knowing they needed to be washed as he recognised some of the t-shirts she'd worn that week, and there was a second pile of neatly folded clothes sat on top of the chest of drawers. Hermione wasn't in the room but he'd noticed the bathroom door had been closed when he'd walked by, so he sat on the bed whilst he waited for her.

~000~000~000~

Silence suddenly filled the room and Sam shifted in his chair at the table, feeling tense and awkward. He let his gaze move to his father, seeing him swirling the liquid in his glass as he stared down at the surface of the table contemplatively.

It wasn't right, Sam thought. It wasn't right that he felt awkward around his own father. But the things that had been done and said almost four years ago couldn't be taken back because he'd meant every word he said, and his father was never one to listen to what he wanted or had to say. It was always his way or the highway, and Sam had chosen the latter.

Shouldn't he be proud of him? What father wouldn't be proud of their son being accepted into a college that was as well known as Stanford University? Especially when he'd done it on his own. Especially with his fucked up childhood, the moving around and the never being in the same place for more than a few weeks. Shouldn't his father be proud that he'd managed to get out of the hunting lifestyle he'd wanted him to have? Shouldn't he be happy that he was safe and happy at college and wanting to do something with his life? But no, his father, unfortunately, was just as fucked up in the head as the rest of them.

Shaking his head and no longer being able to stand the silence, Sam stood from the table, his chair scraping across the floor and drawing his father's attention, and he crossed over to the sink and filled it with hot soapy water. There was no need to box up leftovers or put it in the trash, Hermione didn't often get to cook but when she did, she was so good at it there was never anything left no matter how much she made or how big a portion she gave them.

Ignoring the weight of his father's stare, he dug his hands into the hot water, wincing slightly at the temperature before focusing his attention on scrubbing the plates and cutlery clean. Once he'd put them off the side to dry, he emptied the sink before rinsing out the saucepan and then he washed both pans and the empty pie dishes as Dean had eaten a full one to himself, not that he was surprised. Sam much preferred savoury over sweet, but even he could admit that Hermione could make a damn good pie.

"He's changed," his father commented. Sam didn't respond and he kept his back to him. "He's more..." He paused for a moment, searching for the word. "Settled,"

Sighing, Sam finished the last of the dishes, put them off to the side to dry and he emptied the sink, reaching for a cloth to dry his hands with before turning around, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

"You sound surprised by that," Sam replied.

"You know your brother as well as I do," he said, bringing the glass to his mouth and sipping at the whiskey it held, "He's not the relationship type."

"And yet, almost eight months later, here we are. Dean's got a girlfriend that loves him as much as he loves her and he's happy in his life."

His father raised an eyebrow. "You think he loves her?"

"I _know_ he does. I didn't find out about Hermione until after Jess' death, she had to go back to London as her brother was severely injured whilst doing his job and they weren't sure if he was going to make it. When he was released from the hospital she came back and she turned up at our motel, fair to say I've never been as surprised in my life than I was that day." His father snorted at him. "They'd been together a few months before we met, and that night after we finished with the case and returned to our room, he asked me how I knew I loved Jess, and that's when I knew he loved her. I've been with them for months now; I've seen how they respond to each other. She's killed for him, he's killed for her. He gets jealous when guys hit on her, she gets jealous when girls hit on him, but she doesn't mind him flirting so long as he doesn't do anything inappropriate. I've seen her ask him to flirt with someone to get information out of them. And while he does flirt, he's never looked at another woman the way he looks at her. You and I both know he hates cats, yet he didn't put up a fight or complain when we suddenly had two more to feed. He watches her when she's reading, he lets her drive the Impala regardless of the fact she sometimes forgets we drive on the right and not the left. When travelling he'll stop as many times as Hermione wishes, even if it's so she can take a photo of a damn tree, or because she has a sudden craving for ice-cream or cake. He willingly met her family and he got on a plane to travel to London no matter his fear, his eyes follow her when she leaves the room, and he holds her and sings to her when she has nightmares, and she does the same for him."

"Nightmares?" He questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"You know there's some fucked up shit happening in the world, we've all seen and faced it, but Hermione's childhood was _very_ hard for her. I'm not going to tell you why 'cause that's betraying her trust and privacy, but she was forced to do and witness things no child should have to do at that age. Her childhood makes ours seem normal. They try to hide it from me so I won't worry, they think I don't know and that I sleep right through the night when we have to share a room, but I know her nightmares are bad. Some days are worse than others, but I've noticed she's getting better and so is he. This lifestyle is hard, we both know that, but they help each other to cope, they've managed to find happiness with each other despite the situations we find ourselves in."

"Hermione's an amazing woman, she really is, and I love her as if she were my sister. She's been good for Dean. He's happier than I ever remember seeing him. He doesn't sleep around, he doesn't drink as much, he's not as reckless; he's grown up a lot since meeting her. He worships the ground she walks on and rightly so, if I'm being honest, if things were different and I didn't love her the way I do and I'd never met Jess but instead her, I probably would've done the same as Dean. So, yeah, I know he loves her, but I don't think he's figured it out yet and I don't think it'll be much longer until he does and he finally tells her."

"Do you think they'll last?" His father questioned curiously.

"Honestly, I think they just might. This isn't a fling, they've been together too long to it call it that. I actually think they'll be married within a couple of years and I've seen the way Dean is with Hermione's nieces and nephews, he all but melted when he held her newborn niece when we went over for a visit, so I won't be surprised if you get a grandchild in a few years." His father blinked in surprise, looking truly stunned by his words. "She's going to be a Winchester and I'll be proud to officially call her my sister, so you should probably get used to her being around 'cause she's not going anywhere. Hell, if Dean messes things up with her I'll kill him myself and then convince her to marry me just so she'll still be a part of my life. The only reason I'm still functioning after all the shit that's been happening is because of her. You won't believe half of the things that's she's done in her life, but if you earn her trust, if you prove to her she can trust you with her secrets then maybe she'll share them with and if she does, you're entire world with be flipped upside down and you'll question everything you know."

~000~000~000~

Hermione entered the room minutes later and he was surprised to see she'd taken a shower, especially since it had barely been ten minutes since she'd left them at the table. She stepped into the room with flushed skin, damp hair hanging down her back and with a towel wrapped around her but she didn't look surprised to see him.

"I'm sorry about my dad," he said.

"Don't be, I know he's an arsehole, I just think he's purposely acting like one to either prove me right or to wind me up," she replied, rooting through her underwear drawer, pulling a few pairs out and placing them with the rest of her folded clothes and then slipping on a pair beneath her towel.

"He said he likes winding you up," he told her, his eyes scanning her body appreciatively when she dropped the towel to the ground so she could put on her bra.

"If he'd known about magic, he most certainly would've been hexed by now. In fact, I'm still considering it and saying to hell with the consequences. If he kills me, I'll just come back and haunt his arse."

He snorted at her. "I don't think our relationship will survive that," he replied, frowning in disappointment when she pulled on a t-shirt and some jeans, covering her body from his eyes.

"No, what if I promise to only terrorise your father and to leave alone the rest of the human race?"

"Then definitely not, I'd at least want you to terrorise Sammy as well."

She rolled her eyes at him and shook her head, pulling her wand from seemingly out of nowhere and waving it over her hair, it suddenly falling down her back in perfectly dry curls. With another flick of her wand, the folded clothes before her packed themselves away into a small carry on suitcase, and it closed and zipped itself up.

"Your dad will be suspicious if he sees me leaving without luggage," she explained. "I'll pop it in my beaded bag once I leave. And once I get outside, I'll reinforce the wards for good measure. As long as you're inside the house, you'll be safe, so if you happen to get chased by the vampire you're after; if it follows you here you're safe. Just tell your dad it's a warding I know about that's similar to demon traps." He nodded. "I'll leave you the keys to the house, if you have to leave before I get back, don't worry about, I'll just track your location and head straight to you. Just remember to take the cats with you and Crookshanks will keep an eye on them for you."

"How long will you be gone?"

"Should be no more than a few days, if everything goes to plan, that is. We need to kill Lazarus before the full moon hits so we have a fifty-six-hour time frame that it needs to be done in, otherwise, we have to wait another month. There are ways to keep him contained until then but it's a pain in the arse and we run the risk of him escaping. But if you run into a bit of bother and you need me, I'll be with you within an hour no matter the time difference. We're most likely to be in the Muggle World so you can call me and I'll receive it. Are you sure you don't want me to stay? I know things with Sam and your dad are still unresolved and I don't want to leave you alone with them."

He smiled at her, reaching out to grasp her wrist and he tugged her closer until she stood between his parted knees and he looked up at her.

"I'll be fine," he said. "They'll work it out eventually, and while I'd be more comfortable with you staying for this case, especially after what we've just learned about vampires, I know this is something you need to do and it would be wrong of me to stop you from going. This might just be the closure that you're looking for."

She sighed and nodded, her arms coming up to loop around his neck and hands run through his hair, her nails scratching at his scalp.

"I know I won't be gone long but I'm going to miss you."

He smiled up at her. "I'll miss you, too," he admitted.

"Please be careful, I know you've got Sammy and your dad, but it's different. You've come to rely on me and my magic to have your back and save the day. I know you're capable of handling yourself, but it's different not having access to something you're used to. Not to mention, you've got Sam and your dad at each other's throats so that'll be a distraction."

"I'm used to it," he shrugged. "They've been that way for years."

"And you're stuck in the middle," she commented. "I really don't want to leave you alone with them."

"I'll be fine," he promised.

She bit her lip in thought and he raised an eyebrow when she pulled her wand from beneath her sleeve and gripped the little otter charm that he wore around his neck and hadn't taken off since she'd given it to him, and she pressed her wand to it, a slight blue glow settling over it before it disappeared.

"What was that?"

"I've turned it into a port-key," she answered. "If you're in a situation you can't get out of and your life is in jeopardy, grip the otter tightly and say 'Portus' and it'll transport you straight to the house. If you have hold of Sam and your dad, they'll be transported with you, of course, it'll be hard to explain to him afterwards but we'll deal with it if it comes to it. All that matters is your safety."

"Portus, got it," he nodded.

She let out a sigh. "I better get going or I might miss the debriefing."

"Be careful," he said.

He stood from the bed and pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her against him tightly as he buried his face against her neck, the scent of apples invading his nose and making him dizzy.

"Remember, if you have to leave, don't forget to turn off the power to the house, throw out anything that might go bad, don't leave the cats behind and lock the door after you. I'll find you once I'm done," she said, her words slightly muffled by his chest but he still understood.

She pulled back from him, reaching up to press her mouth against his and he held her to him a little longer when she tried to pull back from him too soon for his liking.

"I..." She hesitated. "I'll see you soon," she settled on, before pulling back from him, grabbing her carry on case and making her way down the stairs with him following behind her.

Seeing her entering the room with a case in hand, Sam pushed himself away from the counter and approached her, pulling her into a hug.

"Be careful," he told her.

"I always am," she replied, pulling back from him and reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek.

She grabbed her carry on case and made for the door, pausing as she grasped the handle and she looked back at them, seeing that his father had joined them as they stood beside each other, watching her.

"I mean it, if you need me just give me a call and I'll come straight back. Don't do anything stupid," she told him and his mouth twitched in amusement. Then she looked at Sam. "Don't let him do anything stupid," she said and Sam snorted at her. "Take care of each other, I'm not here to watch your stupid arses."

"Charming," Sam scoffed.

"I've been spending too much time with Dean," she replied, before looking to his father and he raised an eyebrow. "I swear, if I come back and there's a single injury, I don't care if it's a paper cut, I'll..."

"Break my nose?" He interrupted.

"No, kick you in the balls...Several times."

He snorted. "A bit drastic but fine," he replied.

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, before looking back to him and Sam. "Be careful. Don't forget, safety first. Always do a perimeter check, always double-check your surroundings and always ensure you have a plan."

"We know, Hermione," Sam said. "Constant vigilance," he nodded.

Hermione's mouth twitched into a smile. "Moody would be proud," she said, before she opened the door, blew a kiss their way and then closed it behind her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 20

**One week later...**

"I'll get the rooms," Sam said, climbing from the car and waiting for the three cats to jump on out to stretch their legs before closing the door behind him.

"Make sure to get two this time," Dean replied.

Sam rolled his eyes. "It wasn't my fault they only had one room available," he muttered as he walked towards the office and Dean's eyes searched his new surroundings, taking note of how many rooms there were and how many cars were already parked in the parking lot.

It'd been a week since Hermione had left and if Dean were being honest, he was worried. He knew she said she'd be gone a few days, but at this point, he couldn't help worry. Especially when he hadn't heard from her in almost five days. As soon as she'd left, he, Sam and their father all headed off to bed, Dean receiving a text from Hermione not even fifteen minutes after she'd walked out the door, letting him know she'd arrived in Paris safely.

The two days that followed she texted him a total of four times which he couldn't be upset with, after all, he knew she was busy trying to catch a super-vampire. She never told him how things were going for her and her team, just that she was fine and she'd see him soon. But since her last text, he hadn't heard from her. He knew that she was fine, if she weren't, if she'd been badly injured or his worst nightmare happened and she'd been killed, he knew her family would find a way to contact him. And because they hadn't, he assumed it meant she was back in her world and was unable to send or receive any messages or calls which would explain why he hadn't heard from her. But it didn't explain why she still wasn't back.

Sam knew he was worried, the cats had picked up on his anxiety at her being gone and more often than not they followed him about, and his father had definitely picked up on his worry though, thankfully, he never brought it up. He was just glad he had his brother and father to help keep him distracted and focused on the task at hand, finding and killing the demon that had killed his mother when he was child, and now that they had the Colt, it was possible.

Dean hadn't been pleased when he'd been woken by his father barely hours after he'd gone to sleep after Hermione had left, informing them he'd been listening to a police scanner and had heard of an abandoned car that he wanted to check out, but still, he'd pulled himself from bed and dressed.

Of course, things from that point only got worse. Sam and his father barely stopped arguing and he was stuck in the middle trying to be the mediator but he may as well have not been there at all. He didn't want to lose either of them now that he had them back in his life, but he knew from experience there was nothing he could do to stop them from fighting and whatever was going to happen, would happen and he should just prepare himself for the fallout.

One argument led to another, which led to another, and before he knew it his father had told them more information about the Colt gun, and he knew that if Hermione were there, she'd have punched him from keeping such information from them.

He couldn't quite remember how they'd found the nest of vampires, plural, but they'd done so and in a move that neither Sam nor Dean had approved of, and seeming to forget Hermione's warnings, their father approached without a plan of action, both brothers grimacing at the thought of what Hermione would do to them if she ever found out they'd gone in without checking the perimeter, without having a plan, and without a backup plan, too. He was sure she'd murder them. Dean wasn't afraid to admit everything had gone to shit as he thought it would, his father not being able to retrieve the Colt and they'd been forced to run for their lives, Dean had almost used Hermione's necklace to get them back to her house safely, but he'd stopped himself knowing it was only to be used in a life or death situation, and despite being chased by vampires, he didn't count that as one.

After Dean had broken into a funeral home to retrieve Dead Man's Blood, his father used it to trap a vampire, blackmailing their leader into giving them the Colt. Whilst he did that, he and Sam infiltrated the nest, killed the vampire on watch, released the hostages and then saved their father's life, in which they learned the Colt really _did_ work. After another endless argument, they'd finally been able to convince their father to let them help him with his mission to kill the demon.

Days later, that was how Dean found himself at a random motel in Lincoln, Nebraska. Once they'd dealt with the vampires and despite not having any leads or idea on what they should do next or where they should be heading, his father was adamant they leave Hermione's house and get back on the road. For the sake of avoiding another argument, Dean agreed and the next morning, he made sure to turn off the power in the house, throw out all the perishables, wrangle the cats into the car and lock up the house.

They hadn't been on the road long when Bobby called, speaking of a case and seeing as they were the closest Hunters to the location and they had no other plans yet, they'd accepted. It was a werewolf. After a few days of being holed up in the little town, they'd taken care of it and left. As they stopped for an early lunch, Dean swearing he was so hungry he could eat a damn dragon -something Sam had found funny and that had confused his father- they pulled up at a diner, where Sam had picked up the trail of a possible case, which is why he stood in the motel parking lot.

"You okay?"

Dean shook his head and shut the car door behind him, turning to look at his father who stood on the other side of the Impala, leaning against it with his hands pressed against the roof of the car.

"Fine, why wouldn't I be?" He replied, slipping his hands into his pockets and leaning against the car, briefly catching sight of Domino and Sadie darting beneath the other cars in the parking lot whilst Crookshanks sat on a patch of grass, lazily licking his paw as he watched them, much like a parent watched their children when at the playground.

His father raised an eyebrow. "That girl of yours, you haven't heard from her in a while."

Dean shrugged his shoulders, trying to act nonchalantly. His father saw right through it. "I'd rather her be focused on what she was doing than be distracted by replying to my messages. If she was hurt her family would let me know, and since I haven't heard back, I'm going to assume she's fine."

"No news is good news," his father mused and Dean nodded, being thankful when he saw Sam approaching with two room keys in his hand, which he caught when he threw one over to him.

"Rooms 4 and 5, I got the last two," his brother said.

Dean knew it would be him sharing with his father because although they seemed to have put their differences aside, he knew that Sam sharing a room with their father would be a nightmare. Rounding to the back of the car, he pulled their duffle bags from the trunk, them each taking their own before they made to cross the parking lot to their rooms, only they didn't make it.

"Uncle Dean!"

Dean had never turned around so fast in his life and he made himself so dizzy, his vision blurred for a moment. When it refocused, it showed the sight of two little familiar wizards, darting across the parking lot and towards him. Dean's face lit up with a smile knowing they would only be there if Hermione was back. Dean heard Sam's snort and his father's noise of disbelief but he paid them no mind as he dropped his duffle bag to the ground and prepared himself for an assault.

The two little boys barrelled into him, laughing loudly when Dean hurled Albus up over his shoulder and he picked James up, holding him up beneath his arm and against his waist, spinning around until they cried of their dizziness. Chuckling, he set them back on the ground and they grinned up at him before latching themselves onto him, Albus his leg and James his waist.

"We missed you," James said.

Dean smiled down at them. "I missed you, too, Little Potters," he replied, ruffling their hair, not that it did anything to it, it had already been messy beforehand.

Dean spied from the corner of his eye his father looking very much like he was contemplating stabbing him with a silver knife and drowning him in holy water, while Sam sniggered from beside him. He soon dropped his own duffle bag to the ground when the two little boys detangled themselves from him and they darted over to Sam who was a little ways behind him.

"Uncle Sam!" They cried, and with him being taller than Dean, they both had to latch onto his legs, not being able to reach any higher.

"Hey, kids," he grinned down at them. "Where's your mom and dad?" He asked.

They pulled back and looked up at him, craning their necks due to his height and Dean snorted, closing the distance between them. James was all too happy to be picked up and perched on his hip whilst Sam did the same to Albus so they wouldn't get neck ache.

"They're sleeping," James answered. "Aunt 'Mione said we could stay with you so they can sleep. Lily cries all the time and wakes us up," he scowled and he and Sam snorted at him whilst his father watched them both carefully, his eyes darting between them and the kids.

"That's 'cause she's a baby," Sam said. "You used to be the same and when she gets older, she'll stop crying all the time."

James didn't look convinced and Dean snorted.

"Who's he?" He asked, looking to his father curiously but cautiously, much like he'd done when they'd first met.

Dean prayed he didn't say something about magic, with Hermione not knowing about the plan to help his father, she wouldn't know he was still with them and so she wouldn't have warned the children about keeping magic a secret.

"This is our dad, Jon," Dean answered, sharing a look with Sam that didn't go unnoticed by his father. "Dad, this is James and Albus, Hermione's nephews."

His father raised an eyebrow and Dean's stomach twisted when the young child hugged him tightly as he looked at his father appraisingly, apparently not being comfortable in his presence. Dean didn't blame him; he was his father and sometimes even he felt uncomfortable around him.

"It's nice to meet you, boys," his father said, giving them both a smile that calmed James a little, but his grip didn't loosen. "Do your parents live in America, too?" He asked, obviously noting James' very distinct British accent and he and Sam shared yet another look.

"No," he frowned.

"They probably came for a visit with Hermione, they do that sometimes," Sam lied, but his father wouldn't know that.

"Can you do magic?" Albus asked his father.

Dean froze, as did Sam, them both looking to each other in panic.

"Magic?" His father questioned.

"Magic," James nodded. "My daddy's very good at it, so's mummy, but Aunt 'Mione's the best,"

"Where's your Aunt?" Dean asked the little boy on his hip, distracting both him and his father from his previous comment.

"Right here,"

Dean turned to look over his shoulder, his eyes landing on Hermione as she approached. His gaze trailed her body, seeing no injuries yet but they could very well be hidden by her clothing, but that fact didn't stop him from letting out a sigh of relief at seeing her after a week. He set James on the ground and walked towards her, only just noticing that she had a backpack slung over her shoulder, her carryon case on the ground beside the Impala and she carried a car seat in her hand, it facing away from him but he knew baby Lily would be inside it.

Taking that into account, he was careful when he pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly against him, his face burying in her neck and his nose brushing aside her curls so he could breathe in the scent of apples and place a kiss to her skin.

"Miss me, Honey?" She asked softly, burying her face in his chest and her free arm wrapping around his neck.

"Like crazy," he admitted. "And I see you brought some extras."

She chuckled and pulled back from him, looking up to his face. "Well, after it was all and done with everyone returned to London. We chased them into my world, that's why I haven't been able to contact you for the last few days. I stayed with Harry, Ginny and the kids for the night to get some much-needed rest and when they learned I was coming back, they begged for me to bring them with me so they could see you, and given how tired Harry and Ginny are, I saw no point in denying their request, especially so Harry and Ginny can a little time to themselves. And I just couldn't deny you the right to see the little lady," she grinned and Dean scowled, knowing she was right.

He carefully reached for the car seat, taking it in his hand and turning it to face him, bringing it up to his eye level and when his eyes immediately locked gazes with the bright green eyes staring back at him, his heart all but melted.

He couldn't believe how much she'd grown. When he'd last seen Lily she'd been a newborn and tiny, and now, despite her still being small, she'd grown massively. Her red hair looked to be thicker and a little longer, as did her eyelashes and she looked adorable in her little lilac-coloured dress and white tights as she kicked her feet and let out little squeals.

"Hey, Lily Petal," he murmured softly, a smile pulling at his mouth as he reached up with his free hand to right her dress.

"She's grown so big, hasn't she?"

Dean nodded, not taking his eyes off the little lady before him. "It's only been what? Two months?"

"Nine weeks," she nodded.

"Uncle Dean!" James called and Dean twisted to look over his shoulder. "Can we go in your car?"

"And to the movies?" Albus asked.

Dean's mouth twitched, well, he _did_ promise them. He turned and took the backpack from Hermione, slinging it over his own shoulder whilst she picked up her carryon case and they crossed over to the little group, Hermione pulling Sam into a hug and Albus laughing when he was squished between them, and when she pulled back she and his father eyed each other before nodding to one another.

"Sure, we can do that today," he responded.

"But the case..." His father started but he cut them off.

"Can wait until tomorrow," Dean replied, surprising his father. He'd _never_ put a case on hold before and they both knew it. "Let's drop your things off in the room, we need to have a quick chat with your Aunt but we'll go soon, I promise."

James and Albus both look saddened at having to wait but they nodded. Sam set Albus on his feet, picked up his duffle bag as well as Dean's and they all made their way to their rooms. Sam knowing that he'd have to share with their father went with him, and Hermione opened the door for them and they stepped inside, seeing the motel room was a lot cleaner than the ones they were used to staying in but that didn't stop Hermione from casting a few cleaning spells or changing the sheets on both of the double beds.

To keep Albus and James entertained, Hermione removed two colouring books and some crayons from the backpack and set them on the table, and then she removed Lily from the car seat, apparently her being due a diaper change as she pulled out a clean one and some wipes, before quickly dressing the wriggling baby and throwing the dirty diaper into the trash can in the bathroom.

"So, your father?" Hermione asked.

"I'll explain later," Dean replied, his eyes darting to the kids briefly.

When Hermione sat on the bed preparing Lily's bottle, he sat beside her, leaning back against the headboard, his back propped up by pillows, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles as he held Lily in his arms, absentmindedly humming to her. There was a knock on the door and before Dean could stand, Hermione handed him the bottle, gestured for him to feed Lily and she stood from the bed and crossed over to the door, opening it with the three cats darting inside, winding themselves between her legs, brushing themselves up against her and meowing in greeting. She laughed and bent to scratch them each on the head, before opening the door wider for both Sam and their father to step.

The cats soon left her alone, instead of moving over to the table, jumping up on the surface and rubbing themselves against James and Albus before sprawling themselves out on the table, covering their colouring books and drawings and the children laughed at them.

Sam didn't bat an eyelash at the sight that met them but he crossed over to the table, picked Albus us from the chair and took a seat, setting the young child on his lap. He didn't even acknowledge his presence other than accepting the blue crayon Sam held out in offering. His father, on the other hand, did a double-take at seeing him lounging on the bed with a baby in his arms as he quietly fed her. Dean didn't look to his father, rather he ignored him, giving the little lady that was grabbing at his shirt his full attention. Though Dean wasn't surprised by his father's reaction. Seeing him interacting with young children was one thing, a baby was another thing entirely.

"So, how did it all go?" Sam finally asked Hermione, accepting the green crayon from Albus and colouring in the section the young child gestured to, his eyes darting between the page in front of him and Hermione.

She let out a sigh and pushed a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face. At the sound, Dean lifted his eyes from Lily and to her, frowning slightly.

"Not well," she admitted. "I'm not saying we didn't get him because we did, it just wasn't easy," her eyes darted to James and Albus and seeing them engrossed in their colouring, she continued. "He wasn't alone."

"Meaning?" His father questioned.

"Meaning, the reason he'd been gone so long was that he'd been building an army."

"Of vampires?" Sam asked with wide eyes and Dean felt his worry make a reappearance.

"Yes," she sighed. "So not only did we have to defeat Lazarus but his army, too."

"How many were there?" Dean asked.

"Last count was thirty-six,"

"Shit," he muttered quietly, not wanting to the children to hear but Hermione still smacked him on the leg and Sam still sent him a glare from across the room, apparently having heard him.

"Exactly, and his gift...We discovered it was mind control. He could control the minds of anyone he either nipped with his fangs, or he drank the blood of."

"Shit," Sam whispered this time. Hermione threw one of Lily's shoes at him and Dean sent him a glare this time. He might've cursed, but he didn't have two impressionable young children right beside him.

"He turned some of our own against us, it took nearly forty-eight hours to kill Lazarus and nearly four days to track and destroy the rest of his army. We returned to London and needing some sleep, I stayed with Harry, Ginny and the kids for the night before leaving the next morning."

"Injuries?" Dean asked.

"A few bruises but otherwise fine," she replied but he didn't quite believe her, not that she'd admit to injuries in front of his father, after all, how would she explain them miraculously healing so quickly? "All that matters is that he's gone and Jake's finally gotten justice, as has his other victims."

"Uncle Dean, can we go now?" James asked, interrupting the conversation.

Dean looked to Hermione and she nodded. "Sure, grab your coat and we'll head out," he replied.

James and Albus both grinned, sliding down to the ground and picking up their coats from the floor and putting them on. By this point, Lily had finished her bottle and Hermione took her from him, preparing to burp her as he stood, grabbed his leather jacket and slipped it back on.

"You coming with us?" He asked her.

"No," she shook her head. "I think me and the little lady will have some girl time today, you just take the boys. Lily will only get in the way and you certainly wouldn't be able to take her into a movie theatre with you."

Dean nodded, turning to his father. "No thanks, I'll stay behind and do some digging into the case," he spoke.

Dean gave him a suspicious look but didn't comment. He didn't bother asking Sam, he'd already stood from the chair and was crouched down helping Albus to zip up his coat as it appeared to have gotten stuck.

"Be good for your Uncles," Hermione warned. "If you're naughty you won't be allowed to go out with them again."

"We'll be good," James replied. Hermione didn't believe him.

"Right, let's go," Dean said, grabbing the car keys from the bedside table and making sure he had his wallet with him.

"Remember the rules," Hermione said amused as Sam opened the door and the two young children darted out of the room with Sam following after them.

"No swearing, don't take your eyes off them and no fear," he responded.

"And don't let them walk all over you, you're too soft."

"I'm not," he denied with a scowl.

"Honey, they have you wrapped 'round their little fingers, and you know it."

He didn't reply, instead, he stalked out of the room, closing the door behind him with Hermione's laughter being loud in the room and his father's curious gaze watching his retreat.

~000~000~000~

Hermione felt a little disorientated when her eyes fluttered open to the early afternoon light filtering in through the uncovered window. The last thing she remembered was putting Lily down for a nap and she turned her attention to helping John with research for the case, him quietly sitting at the table whilst she'd spread out papers on the bed.

Given that she was now laying on her side with papers surrounding her and covering the bed, she understood she must've fallen asleep and given the lack of sleep she'd had during the last week, it wasn't surprising to her. Not only did she find it difficult to sleep without Dean beside her, but she'd been so busy helping to track and destroy the vampires that barely anyone assigned to the mission had slept, not to mention, she hadn't gotten any sleep when she'd stayed at Grimmauld with the children being excited to see her and Lily waking during the night.

She let out a tired yawn and stretched her body out, her eyes darting beside her where the blanket looked disturbed and a pillow had been blocking Lily from falling off the bed, only she wasn't there, the space beside her was empty. Panic shot through her and she bolted upright, her wide eyes scanning the room, seeing the bed beside her empty except for the three cats sprawled out on it, and the table John had occupied was empty, too. She automatically reached for her wand when she caught movement from the corner of her eyes and peering over her shoulder behind her, she let out a small puff of air, seeing that it was only John and much to her surprise, he held Lily in his arms, cradling her against him as he muttered softly and paced back and forth, rocking the little lady in his arms.

"Don't shoot," he said, obviously noticing her being awake and reaching for her wand, which he'd automatically assumed was a gun. "She's was a bit fussy when she woke, and since you didn't wake, I assumed you were exhausted. She needed changing which I did and she's probably due a feed soon."

Hermione blinked in surprise, twisting her body to face him and planting her feet against the floor. "You didn't have to do that; you should've just woken me."

He shrugged his shoulders, not looking at her but at Lily as she waved her little arms and kicked her legs, his mouth twitching at the corners. "It's been a while since I've to care for a baby, but you never forget. She's a pretty little thing," he commented.

Hermione eyed him carefully. "She is," she agreed. "If you saw her mother, you'd see why."

"She's pretty?"

"Stunning," she replied. "Vivid red hair, dark eyes, flawless skin, athletic..." He looked up to her, raising an eyebrow. "What? I have eyes and can appreciate the beauty in both men _and_ women, despite my preferences for dating men."

He snorted at her, crossing over to the table, retaking his seat and shifting Lily so that she lay pressed against his chest, her ear resting over his heart, the sound of his heartbeat lulling her back to sleep. She noticed that he'd removed his leather jacket and now sat in a t-shirt, jeans and boots, similar to how Dean usually dressed, she realised. Despite Lily being asleep, he made no move to return her to the bed, instead just made himself more comfortable in his chair and gently patting her back.

Hermione could see the resemblance between him and his sons, but she thought he looked most like Sam, which meant Dean looked most like his mother. She knew from Dean that he was in his mid-fifties and Hermione thought he'd aged well despite all the things he'd been through in his life, but that still didn't make up for him being an arsehole. Aside from some grey hairs and wrinkles, he really didn't look his age.

"He's changed," he commented after a short while of Hermione awkwardly trying to avoid the gaze he'd had locked on her.

"Sorry?"

"Dean, he's changed."

"Has he?" She questioned.

"It's because of you, I know it is. I never thought I'd see the day Dean settled down."

She frowned. "He hasn't,"

"No? Then what's he doing with you?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. "Dean's never been a relationship type of person, that was obvious from the moment he was old enough to start taking an interest in women. I've never heard him speak the name of a woman more than once, I've never seen him with the same woman more than once, I've never seen him stay the night at a woman's house. And yet, here you are. A woman who not only caught his attention, but that's managed to tie him down for as long as you have."

"I haven't tied him down," she denied. "From the moment I met Dean I pegged him as being a non-committer, and when I agreed to leave my life behind and hunt with him, I knew he had an interest in me, I just didn't know it was more than him wanting to sleep with me. And when it did happen months later, I assumed that would be it between us and we'd carry on with our lives like adults, accept he surprised me."

"He was the one that wanted more, he was the one that wanted a relationship, that wanted labels and exclusivity. I knew having a relationship with him would require patience and effort but by this point, I knew the man he was, and I was certain he was worth it. He struggled for a while, not with being faithful which I admit, did surprise me, but with his own emotions. He felt guilty that he couldn't seem to stop flirting with other women, I knew he was a flirt and so I took no offence in it, especially since it was harmless and he had no intentions of doing anything that would hurt or upset me, unfortunately, he couldn't forgive himself. He struggled with how to behave in a relationship, but he soon realised I had no expectations of him and I had no intentions of trying to change who he was and since then things between us have been easy. There's no drama or awkwardness, the only arguments we have are food-related, accusing the other of cheating at card games and picking the music during long journeys. I don't force him into anything, I don't belittle him or try to hurt him."

"Instead, I try to be what he needs, before we got together I was his best friend which I think is what helped him to see the potential between us. Everything between us is equal and shared. When I asked if he wanted to return to London with me when my niece, Rose, was born, he was a little nervous but he _wanted_ to go with me. When Lily was born, he was the one that _insisted_ we head over to meet her. My family thinks he's a good man and as you've seen, my nephews just adore him. I haven't tied him down, he's with me because he wants to be."

His dark eyes watched her silently. "He's settled down," he said. "I know my son. I've never seen him behave the way he does when he's around you. He _hates_ cats. He _hates_ kids or babies. He _hates_ it when anyone else drives the Impala, even myself and Sam. And yet, he travels with three cats and has his own, he's with your nephews right now, spending the day with them of his own free will and I saw the way he was with the baby," he gestured to the sleeping child on his chest with a tip of his head.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know what to tell you."

"Do you love my son?"

She blinked slowly at the unexpected question. "What?" She asked surprised.

"Do you love my son?" He repeated, not tearing his eyes away from her.

Hermione's brow furrowed briefly. "Yes, I do," she answered truthfully. "I love him more than I've ever loved anyone else, and I have from the moment he took care of me. It's usually the other way around, I'm a bit of a mother hen, always have been if I'm being honest. I'm not used to someone taking care of me but during the early stages of our relationship, I got food poisoning and I admit, I'm stubborn, but Dean refused to leave me alone. He refused to let me take care of myself and sulk and that day, when I felt like I was dying, he sat with me, feeding me soup he'd been out and bought for me, reading aloud from one of my books until I fell asleep and when I next woke, he hadn't moved from my side despite hours having passed. He's protective of me, where my previous relationships were possessive, but he trusts me just as I trust him. You and I both know he's not a feelings kind of guy, but that doesn't stop him from opening up to me, from telling me about his worries and fears. He's not afraid to accept my help or comfort, he's not afraid to show me his weaknesses. He's kind to me in a way I've never experienced before, he's very considerate and thoughtful. He doesn't judge me for things I've had to do and he doesn't lie to me. I can take care of myself but that doesn't stop him from making sure I'm eating and sleeping, from putting me to bed when I fall asleep at the table researching, from comforting me when I have nightmares. So, yes, I _do_ love him, and I'd kill anyone that dared to harm him. I'll protect him just as he protects me, even if that means it's from you."

He watched her carefully, his eyes silently scanning her face and she was dying to know what was going through his mind at that moment, but whatever it was, he just gave a small nod, a look of acceptance on his face.

"You say he's changed, but I don't think he has. Dean may have struggled a little at first, but he was doing all of those things for me even _before_ we started dating. He's a good man and I know from experience there's not a lot of those in this world. I didn't think I'd ever be able to trust anyone again after what happened with Jake, but Dean proved me wrong. If I'm being honest, _I'm_ the one who's changed, not Dean."

The sound of a ringing phone drew them both from their staring match and Hermione reached over, plucking her phone from the bedside table, the caller ID showing it was Dean and a smile pulled at her mouth as she flipped it open and accepted the call.

"You're still alive I take it," she said in lieu of a greeting.

He snorted at her. "For now, they changed their minds and wanted to go visit the park first, which turned into a game of hide and go seek, it took an hour to find the little monsters. They kept changing hiding positions."

Hermione laughed. "I told you, Dean, they've got Marauder's blood, they're bound to be mischievous, it's not their fault they outwitted you."

"I expected that with me, but Sammy... They've been running circles around him," he said amused and she snorted. "Anyway, they've had enough of the park and we've just arrived at the movies. I thought I should check-in and see if they have any allergies I need to know about before getting them some snacks."

"Don't be buying them too much, I don't want their appetites to be ruined, we'll be having dinner soon and if they don't eat, they'll be waking us up in the middle of the night complaining of being hungry."

"You mean like you do?" He replied amused and she could hear the damn smirk on his face.

She narrowed her eyes. "Watch it, Winchester!" She warned. "Or I swear, you'll have to find someone else to bake you pies."

"Bit harsh," he replied and she could practically hear the pout in his voice.

She rolled her eyes. "Avoid anything with nuts, James is allergic. It's not a major allergy but it's better to be safe than sorry, as for Albus, too much dairy can upset his stomach so maybe stay away from that, too."

"Will do, we should be no more than a couple of hours and then we'll head back. We'll pick up something for dinner, what do you fancy?"

"It'll be easier just to get pizza given how many of us there are, but stop somewhere and grab some juice for the kids."

"Okay, before I go, how are things with you and my dad?"

"Fine,"

"Really?" He asked disbelievingly.

"Really, everything's fine," she replied, her eyes seeing the way Lily shifted against Jon's chest and she knew she would soon wake for her bottle which she was due to have in fifteen minutes. "I better go, Lily's about to wake for her bottle, so be careful."

"I won't let anything happen to the little monsters."

"I know, it's not them I'm worried about, it's you. If they can hide from you in broad daylight in a park, how do you think you'll fair in a dark room with numerous people?"

"Ah hell!" He muttered, realising she was right.

And her mouth twitched in amusement. "Exactly, rule number two, keep watch and constant vigilance."

"Great, now I'm on edge."

"You'll be fine, I'll see you later," she said, snapping the phone shut once he'd returned the words, and she turned her attention to preparing Lily's bottle.

Usually, she would've just heated it with a spell but with John watching her carefully, she had to settle for using hot water from the bathroom sink. When she turned with a sufficiently heated bottle for the little lady, she took her from John who, much to her surprise and amusement, was reluctant to let her go, but as she perched herself on the bed, Lily was soon awake and happily drinking from her bottle.

"Why did the kids ask if I could do magic?"

Hermione froze and almost dropped the bottle. Slowly, she lifted her eyes from Lily to him, seeing that he was watching her carefully and with slightly narrowed eyes.

"They're obsessed," she lied. "They love magic tricks."

He didn't look convinced. "Yeah? They said their parents were good at magic but you were the best."

Hermione bit her lip and smiled slightly. "It's the _family business_ ," she said, slightly amused. "We all have a bit of a talent for magic seeing as the children love it so much, we each took the time to learn a few tricks. Their favourite is when I pull coins out from behind their ears, I don't know if it's because they love the trick itself or that they get money every time I do it."

He still didn't look convinced and she cleared her throat.

"Are you human?"

He blinked dumbly at the question before she laughed, shaking her head. "Don't be ridiculous, of course, I'm human," she told the truth.

"So you're not supernatural?"

She rolled her eyes. "Absolutely not," she scoffed. "If I were supernatural, why would Bobby be so protective of me? Why would he say I was an ally? Why would Dean sleep beside me every night? Why would he be in a relationship with me? Travel and live in such close quarters? There's no way I would be able to keep something like that from him, take away the time we split up and investigate during cases, we spend about eighty percent of our time together. So no, I'm not supernatural, and yes, I'm definitely human. If you don't believe me, you may do all the tests you wish, but you'll have to explain to Dean why my palm's been sliced open and I can't imagine him being happy about it."

He leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and though he did look convinced by her words, she knew he was still suspicious. She wasn't sure if she should be annoyed or impressed.

"Why would you even ask such a question?"

"I've noticed some things, things that make me suspicious of you," he admitted. "The looks you share with Sam and Dean when I enter the room, the whispered conversations, your secret past."

She raised an eyebrow. "We share such looks because your presence has upset the balance we had as a team, somewhat. That and the fact you and Sam have issues that need sorting out and it can sometimes be a bit awkward when in the room with you two, especially for Dean who's stuck in the middle of it all. As for the whispered conversations, well, Dean and I don't particularly want you or Sam to hear what we're discussing giving the _private_ nature," she said, her insinuation behind her words clear. "And I don't have a secret past, Dean and Sam both know of my past."

"But I don't."

"I'm not sure I can trust with my secrets, not yet, at least. Neither are Dean and Sam for that matter and until we're sure you can handle what my past holds, you won't be privy to anything I haven't already told you."

His eyes didn't leave her face, not even when she looked down to quickly check on Lily.

"Were your parents military?"

She frowned. "No, they were both dentists, why?"

He looked a little surprised by her words, but said, "You have certain habits that would either be a result of your parents being in the military, or yourself having been in the military. I should know, I served as a marine when I was younger."

She pursed her lips, not knowing what to say to that.

"I know you're the same age as Dean, I know you moved here four years ago now, which would've made you twenty-three at the time. I know you worked for a government department dealing with the supernatural for five years and you spent a year in the police force before that, making you eighteen. You weren't old enough to enlist."

"Actually, age of enlistment in the UK is sixteen," she replied, but he didn't have to know she wouldn't have graduated until she was eighteen if the war had never happened.

"So did you?"

She nibbled at her lip. "You could say that, I didn't have a choice in the matter."

His eyes widened a fraction in surprise. "Everyone has a choice."

"Not always," she sighed. "You want the truth, yes, I was on the front lines."

"In Afghanistan?"

"Sure," she lied, but he didn't need to know that. "Seeing the things I did, it messed me up as you can imagine. When I was eighteen I had PTSD and I retired. Despite almost a decade having past, I still have the occasional flashback and something that may trigger my war reflexes. Are we finished with the Spanish Inquisition, now?"

He nodded slowly and if Hermione wasn't mistaken, she would swear she saw a flash of respect cross through his eyes. Progress, she thought.

He was still an arsehole, nothing he did would convince her otherwise but she had the feeling he would be around for a while and with her relationships with his sons, she knew it would be best for everyone if they could at least get along.

~000~000~000~

Dean honestly never expected to walk into his motel room to the sight of Hermione sprawled out on the bed reading a book, and his father pacing back and forth in the room as he rocked a wriggling baby in his arms with a soft look on his face and mouth twitching at the corners. He did a double-take.

"Aunt 'Mione!" James cried, he and Albus both darting over to the bed, climbing up and all but climbing all over her. She smiled and put the book aside, giving her full attention to them.

"We went to the park and played hide and seek! They couldn't find us 'coz they were too slow to catch us. And then we went for a drive and we went to see a movie. It was wicked! There was a big hairy elephant, and a tiger with big teeth, and a squirrel and lots of snow!"

"What?" She asked amused.

" _Ice Age 2_ ," Dean said, stepping into the room with his hands carrying several bags of snacks, juice boxes for the kids, and some beer for the adults whilst Sam lagged behind a little, his arms laden with a stack of pizza boxes, so many in fact anyone who saw would probably think they were having a pizza party.

"Oh, they made another one?"

"I guess it was a success at the box office," he shrugged. "Considering it was a kids' movie, it wasn't that bad," he admitted.

"Yeah, and we had lots of food," Albus said happily.

"Definitely have Weasley genes," Hermione said amused, her eyes darting to Sam when he stepped into the room, kicking the door shut once the cats had exited out the door.

Hermione stood from the bed and helped to sort out the food, ripping the lids off the pizza boxes for the children to use as plates and giving them a couple of slices each of their choice, before they sat on their own bed and quietly ate as Hermione managed to find children's cartoons on one of the channels on the TV.

Seeing Lily had fallen asleep, she took her from his father and settled her down on the bed, surrounding her with pillows and covering her with a blanket as it was starting to get a bit colder.

The four of them squeezed around the table, his father taking a seat, whilst he took another and Hermione perched herself on one of his thighs and Sam leaned against the wall as they ate.

"So, found anything with your research?" Dean asked.

"Salt and burn case," Hermione spoke before taking a bite from her pizza slice. "Only thing is, we're not quite sure who we're looking at. There was a mass suicide a couple of decades ago and they all happened around the same time."

"Great," Dean sighed, reaching for his beer and taking a swig.

"To make matters worse," his father started and Dean groaned, already not liking what he was about to say. "There were _all_ cremated."

"Awesome," he grumbled. "So not only do we have to find out _which_ spirit we're dealing with, but _what_ object it's attached itself to."

"Which means we need to look into each of the possible candidates," Sam said with a frown. "What if there's more than one spirit involved?"

"Is that possible?" Hermione asked.

"Not that I've seen," Dean shrugged, his father mimicking his actions.

"In any case, we should be on guard. How long are the kids staying?" Sam asked, his eyes darting over to them when they laughed loudly at something that was happening on the cartoon.

"Harry's coming to pick them up after lunch. I promised if the weather was nice and they'd were good that we'd go for a picnic like we did last time and climb trees and play baseball, they want you to teach than how to play football, our football that is," Hermione answered. "His father's not a big fan of the sport," Hermione explained to his suspicious-looking father.

"Soccer then," Dean corrected.

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes.

"Sammy's better at it than I am."

"Guess I'm taking up the mantle of coach," Sam said. "But once they're gone we can divide up the tasks, Dean and Dad can visit the families and check out the crime scenes, I'll take online research and Hermione can handle paper-based research."

It wasn't much later when dinner had been eaten, Hermione had sent the kids to wash up in the bathroom and change into their pyjamas and they were tucked up in bed, quietly watching TV. Seeing as it was the children's bedtime, both his father and Sam left them alone for the night and despite it still being early, both he and Hermione quickly changed for bed, too, snuggling beneath the blankets. By the time the boys had fallen asleep, Lily had woken for her bottle, been fed and burped, had her diaper changed and was dressed in her sleepsuit. Hermione tried to settle her and being so exhausted, she'd drifted off before the baby.

Seeing that she was still awake, Dean carefully removed her from beside Hermione and a memory of his father from when he was a child flittered through his mind, a memory of Sam being a baby and when he wouldn't settle, his father would lay him on his bare chest, the heat of his skin and the sound of his heartbeat helping to calm him. With that in mind, he gently cradled the little lady against his bare chest –being dressed in only pyjama pants-, carefully rubbed his hand over her back and he muttered the words of some of his favourite songs. Lily soon fell asleep and no matter if it wasn't yet nine o'clock, he drifted off, too.

~000~000~000~

"Goal!" James cried happily, doing a strange victory dance that Dean just _had_ to teach him, something he knew Hermione had found funny, Sam annoying and his father didn't look the least bit surprised.

"In your face, Sammy!" Dean called, stood at his place between the makeshift goalposts he was guarding.

That morning Dean and Hermione had been up early with the children which had only made him glad he'd gone to sleep so early the previous night, especially when Lily woke twice during the night, he and Hermione each taking a turn to tend to her. They'd woken well before his father and Sam and after readying for the day, they'd climbed into the Impala, went to the nearest diner to grab some breakfast and they stopped at a convenience store to grab some food for the picnic they had planned. When they'd returned to the motel with breakfast for his father and Sam, they'd been awake and ready for the day, and after eating, they packed up their things and took a short walk to the nearest field, Sam physically dragging his father along with them as he didn't want to go, but his brother hadn't listened or cared.

After setting down the blankets, Hermione sitting down with his grumbling father and Lily, he and Sam had immediately set to work teaching the children how to play soccer and a couple of hours later, he and James were on a team against Albus and Sam, the adults being the goalkeepers and the children kicking the soccer ball and despite Albus being younger and smaller, he was holding his own against his older brother.

"Dean, it's not about winning," Hermione's voice flittered over to them and he briefly looked over at her, seeing her absentmindedly reading a book whilst his father sat with Lily on his lap, keeping her entertained.

"Yes, it is," he muttered childishly.

"I heard that," she said lightly and he blinked in surprise.

How had she heard him? Not only was he too far away from her to hear his muttering, but the wind covered the sound, too.

"Papa John!" James called.

"What?" His father blurted out in surprise, blinking slowly, Dean and Sam mimicked his surprise.

"Papa, it's what he calls the elder male members of the family who aren't his Grandfather," Hermione explained, turning the page in her book without looking away from it.

"Papa John!" James called again. "Come play with us!"

"Yeah! It's lots of fun!" Albus added.

His father blinked once more. "No, thanks," he replied.

They didn't take no for an answer and instead ran over to him, Hermione having expected it taking Lily from his grasp as the two little boys took his hands in theirs and they tugged with all their might, trying to pull him to his feet and over to the makeshift pitch, Dean and Sam sharing a look of amusement.

"Come on," James encouraged. "We don't have to play this game, we can play baseball, too!" He promised and Dean snorted at the young child, stifling his laughter when his father begrudgingly climbed to his feet and let them drag him away from the blankets.

After some time of playing with the kids, his father seemed to relax a little more and both soccer and baseball were forgotten and it ended with them playing chases, and whilst they did that, Dean headed over to Hermione, taking a seat beside her and offering Lily his finger which she grabbed on to.

"Tired?" She asked him amused.

"I swear, they've worn me out far worse than any case or supernatural being," he replied and she snorted at him. "I'm glad you brought them back with you, we needed a bit of a break and they certainly provided it."

She hummed. "Your father asked me a lot of strange questions yesterday, I managed to talk my way around them."

He frowned slightly. "Like what?"

"If my parents had been in the military and if I were human or supernatural," she shrugged and his eyes widened, a choked sound of surprise leaving him. "The majority I was able to answer truthfully. He knows I was on the front lines, he just thinks I was in Afghanistan, and I think he believed me about my human-non-supernatural status when I brought you and Bobby up. But he's suspicious and we need to be careful."

"He may be around longer than you think," Dean said and she raised an eyebrow. "I haven't had a chance to tell you yet but we're staying together for the time being, at least until we find the demon that killed my mom. We managed to get the Colt." Her eyes widened. "We're not sure where to start looking and we only stopped here 'cause Sammy caught wind of the case. We'll have to make sure you're never left alone with him in case you need to use magic for something, if we split up you'll have to be with me or Sam."

She nodded. "Shouldn't be too hard, though I'll have to remind myself not to use magic for anything I could do for myself."

"Well, I told James and Albus he doesn't know about magic yesterday, after their comment, we can't afford any more slip-ups."

"Harry will be collecting them soon enough, London's five hours ahead of us and I've already sent him our coordinates, he'll port-key over after finishing his shift. I made sure to tell him to leave his Auror robes behind. And speaking of family, I've been meaning to ask, what are we doing for Christmas?"

"Christmas?" He blinked in confusion.

"Christmas," she clarified. "It's only a few weeks away, so what are we thinking plans wise?"

"We don't celebrate Christmas."

"Shut up, what do you mean you don't celebrate Christmas?"

"We just don't, haven't since we were kids. Christmas, Thanksgiving, birthdays, we don't do any of it."

"Merlin, that's unforgivable," she said horrified. "And we celebrated _my_ birthday."

"That's different,"

"How is that different? I don't care what you say, we're celebrating this year. Not only is this going to be our first Christmas together, but Christmas is about family and not only do you have your father and brother back, but you've got my family, too. The kids will never forgive you if you don't visit them. We've been invited to Christmas at the Burrow, which is a tradition I've partaken in for over a decade, we all have. Of course, I haven't given them my answer yet and if your father's still with us, which he possibly will be, we'll probably have to turn them down and visit another time. At any rate, we _are_ celebrating Christmas this year. I don't care whether or not we exchange presents, I don't care if we're in London, at my house in Manning or in a grungy motel, I just want us to be together."

Dean cleared his throat, seeing that having Christmas with him obviously meant a lot to her and hated disappointing her. "Okay, we'll do Christmas," he agreed, his eyes darting to Sam briefly before looking back to her. "We should probably get the kids fed so they won't be going home hungry," Dean changed the subject, reaching for the bags and removing the sandwiches first before calling them over.

A couple of hours later found Dean, Sam and their father playing with the children whilst Hermione watched from her blanket, Lily having fallen asleep and she was in the car seat they'd been carrying her around in. He'd had his attention on the game and hadn't noticed Harry arriving until he looked over to Hermione, seeing Harry crouched down beside her and they whispered to each other. But soon enough the kids noticed he was there and they shouted happily, leaving them behind as they ran over to him and he stood and hugged them both tightly, laughing when they talked over each other excitedly.

"I see you had fun with your Aunt and Uncles," he said amused, looking up at him when he approached, they shook hands and Sam came up beside them, doing the same.

"Thank you for keeping them safe," he said.

"Hermione would kill me if let them fall and scrape their knee," Dean replied.

Harry's mouth twitched. "She's a mother hen that one," he nodded.

"I know," both he and Sam agreed, knowing from firsthand experience.

"Who's the bloke eyeing me funny?"

Dean didn't need to look to know he obviously meant his father. "Our dad,"

"Oh, Hermione mentioned you'd found him," he responded. "He could give Hermione a run for her galleons at hide and seek."

Sam and Dean both snorted at his comment.

"Dad, this is Harry, Hermione's brother, Harry, this is Jon, our dad," Sam introduced. They eyed each other carefully and slowly nodded to one another in greeting.

"I'll help Hermione with the kids," Sam said, heading over to Hermione to help her pack everything away.

"I wanted to talk to you actually," Dean said and Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Damon Ashton?"

His eyes flashed. "What about him?" Harry asked, Dean feeling his father's presence behind him and knowing he was listening in.

"What can you tell me about him? I've had Bobby searching for him, but we can't find him. Bobby reckons he's changed his name."

Harry frowned. "That's possible, the whole town knew about his treatment of her and I'm sure you've seen how they've taken to her. He probably changed his name and moved to keep his head from being bashed in. But I don't know what to tell you or how I can help you."

"Just anything that may help. Family members, friends, previous addresses, things like that."

Harry frowned thoughtfully, his hand coming up to rub at his forehead, disturbing his hair and revealing the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

"As far as I'm aware, he has no family. His parents died when he was a teenager, his Grandmother took him in and then died after he'd graduated. He was a freelance contractor, worked on building sites. I don't know about his friends or where he lived. His middle name was Michael, he has dark hair and eyes, pale skin and is about my height, he had a tattoo on his forearm, some kind of symbol, Chinese maybe. That's all I can tell you."

Dean frowned but shook his head. "Well, it's not much but it's more than we had before, I'll let Bobby know and he can work his magic."

"If you find him, let me know, yeah?"

"I will," Dean promised.

"Well, I better get the kids back to Gin, as much as she appreciated the uninterrupted sleep, she's been antsy all day," he said. "Thanks for watching them," he said, before they shook hands, Harry clapped him on the shoulder and he crossed over to Hermione, Sam and the kids, taking the car seat from his brother.

"What was all that about?" His father asked, stepping up beside him as his eyes curiously watched Harry.

Dean let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair before he slipped them into his jean pockets. "Hermione's ex-boyfriend, I'm going to beat the shit out him when I find him."

His father raised an eyebrow. "Not a nice guy?"

"No, he put his hands on her and in front of James, too," he replied. He looked up at his father, seeing his eyes flash angrily. His father was a lot of things and he was capable of more, but he _hated_ men that put their hands on women, especially when it was done in front of young children. "She took him to London to meet her family and when they returned to Manning, she said he changed. She broke up with him and he didn't take the news well, he even threw a vase at her, it hit the wall and cut her up a bit. So, when I find him, I'm gunna kick the shit out him, and I'm sure Bobby'll want to get one or two blows in, too."

"Rightly so," his father muttered darkly, watching as Hermione hugged and kissed the children and then she hugged Harry, too, before he turned and left with the children, leaving the four hunters alone.


	13. Chapter 13

**Three days later...**

“Come on, Baby, time to get up,” Dean said, leaning against the bathroom door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, watching the unmoving heap beneath the blanket as she was surrounded by Crookshanks and Sadie.

There was no response or movement and he chuckled before pushing away from the door frame and crossing over to the bed, the mattress dipping as he perched on the edge and reached out, his hand settling on what he thoughts was Hermione’s hip and he gave her a gentle shake.

“Baby, wake up,” he said.

She made a sound of annoyance in her sleep, her body shifting beneath the covers but otherwise, she didn’t respond or make any move to wake and climb from the bed.

“Hermione,” he said, leaning closer to her, his elbow taking his weight and the mattress shifted once more, enough that he woke both the cats and whilst Sadie stretched, meowed and greeted him with a lick to the cheek before she jumped off the bed and headed for her food bowl, Crookshanks was by far from pleased and he glanced at him coldly before crossing to Sam’s empty bed, curling up into a ball beside Domino and falling back to sleep. “You have to get up.”

“I don’t wanna,” Hermione muttered, her voice muffled as her head was buried beneath the covers. “What time is it?”

“A little after eight,” he answered.

“Then why the bloody hell are you waking me now? We didn’t get in until late, nowhere will be open for another hour and Sam’s snoring kept me awake all night. I’ve heard a dragon roar quieter than his snoring.”

Dean snorted at her before giving her a gentle shake once more. “If I let you sleep too late, you’ll struggle to sleep tonight.”

“I’m not thinking about tonight, I just want to sleep. I really don’t have the energy to get out of bed.”

“It sounds like you need some motivation.”

“Motivation? What kind of motivation?” She asked curiously and sounding more awake. It was progress that he felt her shifting beneath the blanket and when she peeked out from beneath the covers, she was facing him.

“The best kind,” he replied, his mouth tugging into a smirk when he heard the hitch to her breath as she caught onto the meaning behind his words.

“I swear, Dean, if you’re teasing me I’ll make your life a living hell.”

“Me? Tease you? Never. You feeling a little frustrated?” He asked knowingly.

She scowled at him. “Of course I bloody am. We haven’t had sex in eighteen days and it’s bloody killing me!”

“You know how many days it’s been?” He arched an eyebrow.

“Please, like you haven’t been counting, too,” she scoffed. “Between me being gone for a week, us sharing a room with Sam all the bloody time because he refuses to share with your father, _and_ your father’s presence, it makes it difficult for us to get five bloody minutes alone together, let alone any privacy. It’s easy for you, you can take the edge off with a quick wank in the shower, I can’t. I have to suffer; I have been for eighteen days!”

He honestly had no idea how to respond to her and he felt laughter threaten to bubble out of him at her sulky-annoyed almost pout, but if he allowed it to, she’d make him regret it for the rest of his life. Instead, he gave his head a quick shake before his mouth tugged into a smirk and his hand slipped from her hip to ass.

“I feel bad,”

“You should,” she told him, tilting her head up a little before lifting the blanket and burrowing beneath it until he could no longer see her face. “Let me sleep, it’s the only way to escape the _torture._ I don’t know how much longer I can take this and I swear, someone _will_ find themselves injured beyond repair.”

He bit the inside of his cheek to stop him from laughing and his eyes did a quick sweep of his surroundings, double-checking there was no one around despite already knowing Sam had left to grab breakfast and his father had gone to find some newspapers. He and Hermione where the only ones in the room, Sadie having jumped out of the open window not long before and she was followed by Domino who was followed by a grumpy looking Crookshanks, who always followed the younger cats around to keep them out of trouble.

When his eyes moved back to the covered heap that was his girlfriend, his mouth tugged at the corners before he shifted closer to her, pulled the blanket out from beneath him and ducked beneath them, the same as her. Even in the dark he could make out her sulky frown and she huffed before turning away from him, putting her back to him.

He barely stopped his laughter but he didn’t allow her actions to upset or deter him, he knew exactly what she needed and unfortunately, they didn’t have the time for him to do it the way he wished to so he’d have to make do with what little time they had. No one knew how long it would take to find and kill the demon that had killed his mother, and until then, his father would be travelling with them and Sam would continue to refuse to share a room with him, meaning he’d have to share with him and Hermione and any chance at privacy remained low. If he didn’t do something now whilst he had the chance, if he didn’t do something to take the edge off, Hermione’d explode, either injuring someone, revealing her magic or both. Neither was an acceptable option.

She released another huff and he shifted a little closer until his chest hit against her back and his hand lifted to her hip before trailing down the bare skin of her thigh, his touch soft and teasing. As usual, she wore one of his t-shirts to bed and the fabric was bunched around his hips, it having ridden up during all of her shuffling about and before his fingers had even skimmed the waistline of her underwear, her breath hitched.

“What are you doing?” She asked, attempting to keep her tone neutral, void of emotion but he felt her body automatically relax against him, her tense form calming under the simple touch.

“Taking care of you,” he shrugged, speaking against her ear and he felt her shudder against him.

“We don’t have time,” she pointed out.

“Hmmm, maybe not for what I’d like to do to you, but we should have enough to take care of your problem,” he replied, his voice muffled a little as his nose ran the length of her throat, his mouth leaving little nips and kisses in its wake and she tipped her head to give him better access. “So, just relax, switch of that insanely clever brain of yours and let me take care of you.”

He knew her so well he could already hear the response she’d planned for him and so he distracted her, moving his mouth to the sensitive skin just behind her earlobe and his hand slipped beneath her underwear, being surprised to find that she really was _frustrated_. He’d barely touched her and she was already damp with arousal and his muffled hum of approval sounded against her skin as her breath hitched. Her hand flew up to his forearm, gripping tightly and her nails digging into his skin when he slipped his fingers between her folds, spreading her arousal and finding the little bundle of nerves that had her body jerking and a gasp falling from her lips.

He wasn’t quite sure when it’d happened, but the air beneath the covers became hot and sticky and Hermione shoved the blanket off them so they could breathe the cooler air in the room, and her leg lifted to hook over his, giving him more space to move and allowing him easier access to her entrance. Before he knew it, her free arm had wound up and around his neck, keeping him against her neck, she was biting her lip to try and muffle her gasps and moans but was ultimately failing and her hips rocked against his hand. He knew she was frustrated as after barely any time at all, her walls were fluttering around his fingers.

“Dean...” She breathed out. “I can’t take it anymore,” she all but cried.

“I know, Baby,” he muttered, twisting his fingers in search of the special spot that would send her flying over the edge.

He knew he’d found it when her body jerked forward but before he could do anything else and ensure he brought her to the end, Hermione’s body stiffened, her hips halting to a straight stop and she released a loud, horrified gasp before she brought her arm from his neck, pulled his hand from being buried inside her and she hid her entire head beneath the covers.

Dean lifted his head from her neck, a nauseous feeling settling in his stomach and he automatically looked to the third door in the room. One was the entrance/ exit, another the bathroom and the third and final door was the entry to the conjoined room next door, it being the only room they had available at their current motel.

Before his eyes had even landed on the door he knew what he’d find. His father stood in the doorway with a selection of newspapers clasped in his hand, one foot slightly raised as if he’d halted mid-step, his eyes wider than usual and his mouth parted.

He shut his mouth and cleared his throat, simply raising an eyebrow when he said, “Am I interrupting something?”

Dean was sure there’d never been a time when he’d wanted to punch his father more and he was sure Hermione would at the next chance she got.

“Dad? Are you kidding me!” Dean’s voice rose. “Get out,” he said, his anger evident on his face and despite Hermione being completely hidden from him, Dean still pulled the blanket around her tighter as he felt her body shaking against him. He hoped to God it wasn’t out of anger, the risk of her losing control of her magic and exposing herself was very high in that moment.

“Right, sorry,” his father said, holding his hands up placatingly as he backed out of the room and closed the door behind him. Dean knew his father. He wasn’t sorry in the slightest, if anything, he’d found the situation entertaining.

Dean released a slow breath, calming his own anger and rolling stomach before he tried to pry the blanket off Hermione, but she had a strong grip and refused to let go.

“He’s gone,” Dean told her.

“Are you being fucking serious!” She raged, her voice muffled and he was actually grateful for it. “How the fuck am I supposed to look at him again! I can already imagine the fucking smirk he’s going to be sporting the moment I step out of here.”

“I know,” he said, not even bothering to try and defend his father. Not only wouldn’t she listen, he knew she was right and his father was in the wrong. They had a rule. Always knock or shout before entering their room. His father had broken it.

“I swear, I’m going to smack him in the face...”

“I’ll join you,” he replied, trying to pry the blanket off her once more but failing.

“And then I’m going to hex the bastard!”

“I’m all for it, but we can’t expose your secret to him,” he reminded her. “Baby, you’re going to have to come out of there at some point, it must be getting harder to breathe and you can’t stay in there forever.”

“You wanna bet,” she scoffed.

Dean sighed and gave up the fight for the blanket, remaining still and barely a few minutes later the heat got to her and she shoved the blanket away from her head, her bright red face coming into view. Whether it was embarrassment or anger, he wasn’t sure; it was likely both.

“This can’t continue, Dean.”

“I know...”

“He has no respect for our relationship.”

“I know...”

“He has no respect for our feelings.”

“I know...”

“And he has no respect for our privacy.”

“I know,” he said, changing his tone as she didn’t seem to be hearing that he agreed with her. “Trust me, I know, and I’m going to talk with him.”

“Correction, _we’re_ going to talk to him,” she replied, a frightening scowl on her face as she climbed from the bed, stormed to the bathroom and slammed the door shut so hard, it rattled.

That frightened Dean more. It was one thing for Hermione to use that wicked right hook of hers, it was another thing entirely for her to give someone a lecture.

He was almost afraid for his father. Almost. He still deserved it.

~000~000~000~

Dean sat on the edge of the made-up bed, his eyes darting between his father and Hermione. One, who sat slouched on a chair by the table with their arms folded and legs stretched out and the other, stood in the centre of the room with a furious, murderous gaze, a twitching hand and a soon to be tapping foot.

Hermione was as far from happy as a person could possibly be and he was a little worried she’d kill his father. Just to be sure he’d made her give him her wand which he’d stashed up his sleeve out of sight of his father, and he ensured there were no weapons within reach that she may use against him.

Any embarrassment she may have felt before was no longer there, it was all annoyance and fury.

“Alright, I’ll start seeing as we’ll be here forever if I don’t,” his father started and Dean would swear he saw Hermione’s eye twitch. “I didn’t see anything, I swear.”

“Liar,” Hermione replied.

“I’m not lying, I didn’t _see_ anything... Hear on the other hand...”

Hermione’s right hand clenched into a fist and Dean watched her carefully.

“You broke the golden rule. Bloody knock before you come into our room.”

“It’s not like I knew what I’d be walking into,” he rolled his eyes.

“That’s the bloody point. We’re in a relationship; people in relationships tend to have sex. But that’s not the bloody case for us, is it!”

“Hell, it seems someone’s a little tense, you not been taking care of her?” His father asked, turning his gaze to him.

Dean’s eyes widened and he sprang from the bed, quickly catching Hermione around the waist and holding her back as she fought his hold and released a furious tirade on his smirking father. He couldn’t understand any of it; the words weren’t even in English! Spanish, French, Italian, Latin, he didn’t know but they sure as hell weren’t pleasantries, that much he knew.

“Oh, is the little madame _frustrated_?”

“Frustrated! I’m furious. We haven’t had sex in weeks! With you and Sam always being around, we barely have enough privacy to bloody look at each other. I can’t wait until we find the bastard demon you’re looking for, I’m going to kill him myself. He’s bloody ruined my sex life!”

His father’s mouth twitched in amusement. “I’ll tell ya what, my little pent up ray of sunshine, I’ll take Sammy out for a beer tonight, give you kids some time alone. How’s that?”

“Oh, how very generous of you,” Hermione replied sarcastically.

“I know it is, it’s plenty enough time to have you taken care. Maybe you won’t be so uptight afterwards.”

“Uptight! Uptight!” Hermione raged and Dean winced at the rise in volume whilst also sending his father a glare as he struggled to hold her back. “How bloody dare you! You can take your generosity and shove it up your arse. I’m not having sex with my boyfriend because you schedule it into your calendar, no matter how much you think I need it! I’m not a prostitute and you’re not my pimp, you can’t tell me when I can and can’t have sex. Dean, let go of me so I can smack him!”

“Not happening,” he responded, his eyes moving to his smirking to father. “And you’re not helping either, wipe that smirk off your face. You’re supposed to be the older one here. Stop antagonising her or I _will_ let her go,” Dean warned.

“But it’s so fun,” his father argued.

Dean released a ragged sigh before Hermione broke free off his hold when she elbowed him in the stomach. He reached for her once more only she didn’t attack his father like he’d thought she would, rather, she breathed heavily and pushed her hair back from her face and she remained on one spot. She looked to him and then to his father before she released an angry huff, storming over to the bed, grabbing both pillows and chucking them at his father. The first one hit him in the face, the second one he caught and his father burst into laughter as she stormed out of the room and into theirs.

“So, _are_ you having sex tonight?” He called after her.

Hermione released a shriek of fury and her hairbrush came sailing into the room and with surprisingly good aim, it bounced straight off his father’s head. He just laughed in response, rubbing at the aching spot.

“Tell ya what, I’ll stay out till midnight. I’m your fairy Godfather, Cinderella, you shall get laid tonight!” He sing-shouted.

Dean honestly had no words for his father and he only just managed to duck in time as a shoe flew through the doorway and into the room, heading straight for his father and it was soon followed by another one. He caught them both easy enough, only Dean’s eyes widened when the sun reflected off the silver knife that soared through the doorway.

Dean had never before questioned his father’s sanity until that very moment. Hermione had frighteningly good aim and that was only proven when the knife lodged firmly in the wall right where his father had been positioned and if he hadn’t of moved to the left when he had, he’d have found himself with a knife in his eyeball. And what did his father do? Laughed his ass off as he gripped two shoes in one hand, had a pillow covering his lap and held his ribs with the other hand, his eyes actually watering with tears of laughter and his face reddening. Dean had never seen his father laugh so much.

Dean didn’t know what worried him most. His father’s sanity, his father potentially passing out from laughter, his father having almost been killed by his girlfriend, his girlfriend having almost killed his father, or that his girlfriend had found the knives he’d hidden for the sole purpose of preventing her from trying to kill his father.

“I have your shoes now, and you’re not getting them back!” His father called through his laughter.

Dean heard the slamming of a book against the surface of the table before Hermione stormed into the room, brushed past him and headed straight over to his father. Without warning, she smacked him over the back of the head, ripped her shoes from his grasp and then stomped on his foot before turning and leaving the room once more, his father’s laughter only seeming to double.

“I love her!” He exclaimed, “She’s the funniest little thing I’ve ever met!”

“I’m not little, I’m average height, you prat, call me that again and I’ll kick you in the balls and then shoot you in the arse!” Hermione’s voice fumed from the other room. “I’ve found the guns Dean hid from me!”

Dean released a deep breath to calm himself and he pushed his hand through his hair. He hated being in the middle of his father and Sam, but he hated it even more being stuck between his father and Hermione. All Sam and his father did was argue, Hermione tried to kill him! Releasing a grumbled breath, Dean knew he had to get Hermione away from his father before she actually _did_ shoot him. He was just glad he still had her wand, knowing she could do some serious damage with it, more than a bullet was capable of.

“Next time, knock,” Dean warned before he turned on his heel and left his father and his laughter behind.

When he stepped through the doorway and into their room, Hermione was just finishing up with tying her shoes and then she slipped on her jacket before turning to look at him.

“I’m not apologising,” she said, lifting her chin and crossing her arms. “He was bang out of order.”

Dean raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, being used to not understanding some of the words and phrases she used. He just put it down to it being a British thing.

“I’m not asking you to apologise, but really, throwing a knife at him?”

“You should’ve hidden them better,” was her reply, before she turned her back to him, grabbed her magical purse and then left out the room, leaving the door open.

“Why? Why me?” He muttered, looking up to the ceiling before he quickly retrieved the hidden weapons, putting them back in their rightful places of being stashed in his waistband, under his jean leg and up his sleeve.

He looked to the other room where he could still hear his father’s laughter though it appeared to be tapering off and then he headed for the door, almost walking straight into Sam.

“What’ve I missed?” He asked with a confused expression. “I could hear dad’s laugh from the car and Hermione’s outside instructing the cats to ‘bite the asshole’s nose off’.”

“Give me a break,” Dean grumbled, running a hand through his hair and Sam raised a questioning eyebrow. “You don’t want to know.”

“No, I _really_ do,” Sam disagreed. “Hermione’s gripping a knife in her hand and staring at it as if it’s the answer to all her problems and I can see you’ve got her favourite weapon,” he tipped his head towards his arm.

Dean sighed before pushing the wand a little further up his sleeve and he made a mental note to take the knife off her once he was outside.

“Hermione’s pissed at dad and he’s been aggravating her all morning. She’s thrown pillows at him, a hairbrush, shoes, _and_ a knife.”

“Shit! She tried to kill him! Can’t believe I missed that.”

“You’re not helping,” Dean glared. “For the time being, we need to keep them away from each other. I’m going with Hermione today, you go with dad.”

“But I was supposed to be going with Hermione and you with dad,” Sam said, not looking happy.

“Change of plans, if Hermione isn’t kept away from dad, she’ll kill him.”

“So why can’t _you_ go with dad and _I_ stay with Hermione?”

Dean’s eyes darted to the other room where his father’s laughter had finally stopped. “I’m not happy with him either. I’ll hit him if I’m left alone with him.”

Sam’s eyes widened, knowing Dean had never threatened to harm their father before. “Shit, _what_ did he do?”

“You don’t want to know,” Dean replied. “But you’re the middle man, I’m running all communication through you today. And if he mentions anything about Cinderella and going for a beer, shoot him.”

Sam blinked in both confusion and surprise and Dean took the car keys from him and one of the two bags he was carrying, and left the room without explanation, hoping he’d chosen the right one that contained his and Hermione’s food order but he’d doubt she’d mind what she had for breakfast as long as she had food.

As he made his way to the Impala, he saw Hermione crouched down beside the car with the three cats sat before her, listening attentively to what she had to say whilst her eyes darted between them and the knife in her hand, a terrifying smile on her face.

Dean had a long day ahead of him. He wasn’t even sure what he’d do if his father did keep his word and took Sam out for a beer. Knowing Hermione, it’d go one of two ways. She’d refuse to comply with the intentions of their time alone simply to spite his father, not caring that she was so frustrated and risked magical outbursts, or, she’d do the exact opposite and keep Dean awake and busy for as long as she was able to, leaving them both in an exhausted, aching and sweaty mess, so much so, they would struggle to get out of bed in the morning.

Dean knew which he’d prefer, now he just had to be careful with what he said to ensure it happened. And if it didn’t, he’d stab his father himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 10


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 25

Warm, soft fingertips gently explored the skin of his stomach, circling around his belly button, smoothing over his abs, tickling over his chest, teasingly skimming his right nipple.

"Dean... Dean, wake up," Hermione muttered, her voice a husky whisper, her breath tickling over the skin of his neck as she buried her face against him, her nose nuzzling at his throat.

A groan caught somewhere between the back of his throat and his chest and he tipped his head, not sure if he were trying to give her more room to allow that clever mouth of hers to nip and lick at his skin, or if he were trying to get away from her.

His _entire_ body ached. He was certain he'd pulled every muscle possible. After going about their usual day of tracking down leads, researching and interviewing possible witnesses or the victims' families, Hermione and Dean returned to their motel, Dean receiving a text that his father had, indeed, taken Sam to a nearby diner to buy him dinner with the intentions of grabbing a few beers after before getting a taxi back to the motel.

He'd barely set foot in their room when something inside Hermione snapped and she pounced on him, barely giving him time to let the cats out for a wander of their surroundings. She didn't bother with stripping him of his clothing, something he knew she loved doing, rather, she'd magicked them off, leaving him as naked as the day he was born within as little as a few seconds. She only had one goal in mind when she vanished her own clothing, pushed him onto the bed, claimed his mouth and grasped him in her hand, giving a few pumps until he was hard and ready and then sank down onto him. When she'd found her end, collapsing on top of him in a flushed, sweaty and boneless mess, the curtains had caught fire.

She'd explained before how emotions could affect her magic, how feeling frustrated could alter her control, but that was supposed to be after months of build-up. They'd barely gone three weeks without sex and the outcome of her burst of magic had surprised him. But he supposed, they'd been together for quite a while and Hermione was used to regular _stress relief_ , and suddenly being without it... She'd technically gone cold turkey.

She'd managed to put the fire out as soon as it had begun, not looking the least bit surprised by it and once they'd both calmed, she'd dragged him to the bathroom, lathered and washed every part of his body and before he could return the favour, she'd sank down onto her knees before him and took him in her mouth, watching him beneath her eyelashes.

He could admit, it had taken him longer than usual to regain his bearings after but he'd been sure to render her speechless, repaying her in kind for her _extensive_ cleaning of his body and later giving her _two_ orgasms with only his mouth and fingers.

They'd found their way back to bed, neither bothering to dress as Dean switched on the TV and ordered takeout from a list of menus found in the bedside cabinet. He'd barely eaten half of his dinner when Hermione drew his attention. She'd abandoned food in favour of mapping out his body with her mouth and tongue. She _never_ abandoned food.

Several hours later found that neither Sam nor his father had returned and Hermione took that as a sign to convince him to drink down one of her magical potions, something she said was a 'magical energy drink' and he'd found himself with a new burst of life and energy. He'd been the one to pounce on her that time.

Throughout the remainder of the night, Sam didn't return to their room and when they'd heard movement from the room beside them, she'd used magic to not only prevent sound from escaping but to lock _both_ doors. His father would just assume they were sleeping and they'd deliberately blocked it or barricaded it and leave them alone, Sam would know better. He, of course, had a key, but again, he knew better than to open the door if Hermione had magically locked it and silenced it. It was a huge red flag Sam never ignored for fear of what he'd see, what Dean would do to him, or worse, Hermione. Dean wondered if Sam would bite the bullet and share with his father or if he'd be petty and sleep in the car despite there being two beds.

Dean knew he was a young, attractive male in his prime but he'd been surprised and admittedly, amazed, by his own virility. How he'd been able to keep up with Hermione was a mystery to him and he was a little suspicious there may have been more to the potion than she'd originally let on. She'd kept him awake _all_ night, barely allowing him a half-hour break in-between before drawing him back to her.

And as Hermione's fingers skirted lower, dragging him from the slumber he so desperately wanted to cling on to but couldn't, his entire body hurt. He'd had her on every surface in the room; the shower, the table, the floor, against the wall, on both beds –something Sam would cry about if he found out- and he honestly thought that if he had her again, it would kill him. He was half convinced she was part succubus. She'd taken everything from him and at the time, he hadn't been complaining, far from it, but now, as sunlight broke through a slight gap in the curtains and Hermione's hand continued moving lower, he needed strong painkillers, food and a long-ass nap.

"Dean... Wake up..." He made a sleepy grumble of disagreement, his breath catching the moment her hand wrapped around him, stroking teasingly. Yes, _that_ hurt, too and her touch was pained-pleasure.

"I can't," he muttered, his eyelids feeling heavy and he struggled to open them so he gave up trying.

"You can, just one more time, please? We don't know when we'll have this opportunity again."

"Baby, I _physically_ can't."

"You _can_ ," she disagreed, a knowing tone to her voice and should he find the strength to open his eyes, he was sure she'd be smirking. He knew why, too. He was hard and heavy in her grasp.

"How aren't you tired? I'm exhausted," he grumbled, and despite his words and his brain telling him it might kill him, his body didn't listen nor care for the ache as his hips jerked in time to her pumps.

"The potion," she answered, pressing kisses down his neck and over his shoulder.

"We both took it," he reminded her.

"We did, but you have to remember, magical potions are intended for the use of magical folk, not those without magic. As such, any potion we ingest will be more effective for me than it is for you. Basically, you get diluted results whilst I get the full whack of it. I've got a good few hours in me before I crash."

Dean groaned, both from the attention her hand was paying to him as she twisted her wrist and did something with her nails that had shivers running down his spine, and her words. All he could think was, not _again_. He couldn't do it again.

"Aren't you sore? I feel like I've been hit by a train _and_ slept with a succubus."

"You calling me a succubus? A sex demon?"

"Damn right I am," he muttered, somehow finding the strength to roll onto his side and he forced one eye open, locking on her face as she hooked her leg over his hip

She was sex personified. Her hair was wilder than he'd ever seen it; a huge cloud of tangled curls she'd later complain would take her hours to brush. Her eyes dark and intense with heat and need. Her pale, scarred flesh hot and soft. Her face flushed. Her chest rising and falling with every breath she took, brushing against his own. The heat of her body, of her centre, radiating over him. God, was she stunning! And she was his.

"Not sure if I should be offended or not," she replied thoughtfully. "On one hand, we kill such beings, on another, it's almost a compliment. You're literally saying I've shagged you to death."

"Near-death," he corrected, holding in his wince when he lifted his arm, settling his hand on her thigh and sweeping it over her soft, warm skin. "You've been damn right insatiable."

"Hmmm," she hummed. "Yes, I'm sore but I can't find it in me to care right now. I want you. All of you. Come on, Honey, I never thought I'd see you turn down the chance to render me speechless."

"I've been doing it all night," he protested.

"So, one more time won't kill you."

"It just might, and if it does, I'm gonna spend my death haunting your pretty little ass."

"Oh?"

"Hmmm, I've always been a fan of peeking on you in the shower, would you mind if a spirit joined you every once in a while?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," she snorted. He opened _both_ eyes at her words, a strange possessive feeling welling up in his chest. "Long story," she shrugged. "So, am I stopping and tending to myself in the shower."

"Only if I can watch,"

She smiled at him, the fire in her eyes setting his skin ablaze.

"Maybe next time."

He groaned, his eyes closing briefly and he blinked the remainder of the sleep from his eyes.

"I swear, there's something wrong with me," he sighed in defeat. Really though, if he didn't want to, he wouldn't. It was her. He couldn't resist her."You be on top, I might break something. And, please, Baby, have mercy on me."

"Mercy? As in, drag it out until it's unbearable and you lose your ability to breath, think, it's so overwhelming? To go slow and be mindful of the ache? Or to ride you like a disgruntled dragon?"

"Fucking hell, witch," he groaned. She never spoke like that and if she didn't do either one of those things soon, he'd die. "I don't know and I don't care."

"Ladies choice then," she muttered, pushing him onto his back and moving to straddle him, positioning him at her entrance. "Well, Winchester, buckle up and let me do all the work."

He temporarily lost his vision when his eyes closed at the feeling of her sinking down onto him, her warm, wet channel taking all of him and squeezing tightly. This was something he could never tire of.

~000~000~000~

" _Fuck_! Baby, you've done it, you've killed me," Dean groaned.

His body ached more than it ever had. Whilst he'd been quite happy to lay back, relax and allow Hermione to do all the work, it wasn't in his nature to do so for long and despite his brain screaming at him, he'd made sure they'd both worked equally as hard to find their end. Coming down from his high, his aching body now regretted it.

"You'll be fine," she panted, pushing her hair back from her sweaty forehead and working to get her breathing under control. "I'm sure a dead man doesn't complain nearly as much as this."

"I'm torn between shooting you and worshipping the ground you walk on," he turned his head, seeing her serene expression as she stared up at the ceiling from where she'd collapsed beside him.

Her head turned to lock gazes before she rolled to face him, her hand coming up to press against his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns.

"I know which I'd prefer," she purred.

Dean groaned. "Oh God, no. Please! Not again," he begged.

Hermione laughed and shuffled closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder as she tucked herself into his side.

"I never thought I'd see the day. I've done it, I've broken Dean Winchester. Do you remember the first time we slept together? I believe a challenge was issued. Well, I've won."

"You haven't broken me," he protested.

"No?" She lifted her head and cocked her eyebrow. "You want to go again?"

"No!"

Loud laughter burst from her, her body shaking and her face buried against his neck. It took her a few moments to calm down and when she did, she pulled her wand from beneath the pillow and cast a series of spells over them, he wasn't sure what but one he recognised as her Pregnancy Charm, something she'd cast three times during the last twelve hours, just to be thorough, and another left him feeling cooler and a little cleaner but a shower was still in order. He was contemplating taking a bath, maybe Hermione had something in her magic purse that would help ease his aching body which he could dump in the water with him.

"Face it, Honey, I've broken you," she placed her wand back under the pillow and then tapped him on the nose with her index finger, smiling down at him.

"Seriously? How are you so...Alive?" She snorted. "We've been together a while now and I've _never_ seen you this way before. Was there something in that potion you didn't tell me about?"

"No," she shook her head. "There are Lust Potions, pretty self-explanatory, and there are some potions that help with virility for a short while, which you most certainly didn't need," she spoke, her eyes flashing hungrily and he found himself preening under her praise. "But no, it was only an Invigoration Draught, just a short term energy boost. But, I'm going to tell you something and I don't want you freaking out."

He couldn't decide whether to frown or arch an eyebrow and it resulted in a strange mix of the two, his gaze locked with hers.

"Witches are slightly different from muggle females."

"Yeah, one has magic, the other doesn't," he stated the obvious.

She rolled her eyes. "No, we're different physically."

His eyes deliberately trailed her body, being glad she'd covered herself with the blanket so he didn't get distracted but he knew her body well enough to imagine every freckle, mark and scar in the right place.

"Not like that," she lightly slapped at his chest. "You're not going to get all weird or embarrassed about this are you?"

"About?"

"Menstrual cycles,"

His eyebrow arched. "No, why?"

"Good, so, you know that most women menstruate once a month and they have certain points in their cycle they are most fertile?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, witches do, too, only we're different. I don't know why, I haven't looked much into it if I'm honest, but, when a witch either becomes sexually active or reaches the age of maturity, seventeen, whichever comes first, she goes through a... Well, let's just say heat."

"Heat? As in cats and dogs?" Both eyebrows rose high on his forehead in surprise.

"Sort of," she nodded. "It happens once a year, obviously it occurs at different times for each witch. I reckon it has something to do with repopulation. Our community is much smaller than yours, we're outnumbered significantly so I can only assume it's a natural evolution to aid in reproduction. If a witch's in heat for an entire month, she's..."

"Randy as hell?" He guessed.

"Right in one," she nodded. "Which is why I've been..."

"A sex demon?" He supplied.

She snorted and slapped at his chest but nodded, agreeing with him. "Yes. December's the month _I'm_ in 'heat' and I'm most fertile. That's why I've been so frustrated, it's why I'm not as tired as you despite ingesting an Invigoration Draught, it's why I've been so demanding of you and it's why I've been sure to cast the Pregnancy Charm multiple times over the last twelve hours," she shrugged.

"So, you being so insatiable lasts the _entire_ month?"

"Usually," she nodded, snorting at the slightly worried expression that crossed his face. "But, given our recent shag-fest, I reckon I'll be good for a week, possibly two, at which, I'll be frustrated again. If your dad wasn't here and we were having sex like we used to without worry of someone walking in on us, I'd be fine. You probably wouldn't notice a difference in me."

"So, I have a year to build up my endurance before this happens again next December?"

"You still want to be with me in a year's time? That'll be almost _two years_ , Dean."

"Of course I do," his brow furrowed. "I told you I wanted us to be long term and I meant it."

He groaned in pain when she beamed a smile and a shriek fell from her lips as she threw herself towards him, hugging him tightly.

"Merlin, you don't stop surprising me."

"Glad to keep you on your toes."

A knock on the conjoined door sounded and it was followed by a shout before it was opened and his father stepped inside, Hermione barely managing to settle back down beside him and cover herself with the blanket.

"Dad! Are you kidding me!" Dean's voice rose and he bit back a groan when he pushed himself up onto his elbows. His gaze briefly darted to Hermione, seeing her rolling her eyes and running a hand through her hair.

Well, that was unexpected. It seemed he'd... what did she call it? Shagging? Well, he'd shagged the fight right out of her. He'd never seen her so mellow.

"What? I knocked _and_ shouted," he said innocently. Dean levelled him with an annoyed glance and Hermione sighed. "Sammy went to get breakfast, he caught chatter of there being another victim whilst he was out. I'm going to head out and meet him but I need the car keys."

Dean glared but tipped his head towards the table where the keys sat on the surface.

"Good morning, Sunshine," his father said to Hermione as he crossed to collect the keys. "How you feeling?"

"Great, until you ruined my morning."

"Charming," he snorted. "And to think, I sacrificed..."

"You sacrificed nothing, get out," Hermione scowled.

He turned his eyes to Dean. "I had thought, given the clothing on the ground and the smell in the room, you'd taken care of her. I guess not."

"Dad!"

"Arsehole!"

His father ducked out of the room, barely dodging the TV remote Hermione threw at him.

"Keep your phone on you in case we need backup!" He called after shutting the door behind him. "And Sam's fed the cats, they're asleep in here!"

They waited until they heard another door close and they saw the disturbance of the light streaming into the room as someone walked past the window before they turned to look at each other.

"Be glad I'm naked, otherwise I would've climbed out of bed, grabbed the knife from the table and stabbed him with it."

"Trust me, I would've held him down," he grumbled.

A snort of amusement fell from her and he looked at her in surprise.

"I think this is something we're going to have to get used to. Until we've found this bloody demon and killed him, we're stuck with him."

"How'd he get in?"

"The Locking Charm isn't permanent. If I'm honest, I only thought about recasting the Silencing Charm before I woke you, I never thought to re-ward the door. But, now that he's gone..." She reached for her wand once more and with a series of flicks and swishes, the room righted itself, clothing folded neatly and settled on a chair, Sam's bed made itself up and the smell in the room vanished. "I'll go run us a bath..."

"God, no," he groaned.

"Relax," she snorted. "I'll keep my hands to myself, but we both need a bit of healing and the hot water as well as the potions I plan on using will help with that."

She climbed from the bed, completely naked and without a care in the world as she crossed to the bathroom and Dean heard the sound of running water. Barely minutes later, Hermione called out to him and he groaned at the thought of leaving the bed but knew he had to.

It took him longer to cross to the bathroom than he'd like to admit and he felt as though he had cramp in every muscle in his body, but the moment he stepped into the bathroom, a sigh slipped from his lips and he felt his body relaxing as the steam from the hot water surrounded him, as well as the smells of the potions she'd put in the bath. He saw no point in asking what she'd used and instead climbed straight into the bath, hissing against the hot temperature. One thing about Hermione, she liked her baths so hot it'd blister her skin if she weren't careful.

Laying back against the bath, he paid her no mind as she bustled about the bathroom, casting spells over the towels she'd set out, digging through her magical purse and putting more potions into the water and then quickly brushing her teeth. As the daughter of dentists, she was diligent in tooth brushing. Dean had yet to see her miss a night even once by accident. It didn't matter if she were exhausted and could barely walk or keep her eyes open, she always found her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth, even in she fell asleep in her clothes and didn't change or remove them.

"Move over,"

"No," he groaned.

"Yes, lean forward. I'm tiny compared to you; I don't take up a lot of space. Move it or lost it."

Torn between snorting and grumbling, he remained silent as he shuffled forward enough to give her space to settle behind him. He couldn't have her leaning against him, not now. She was quick to climb into the bath and submerge beneath the hot water, barely making a sound at the temperature, her skin pinking immediately.

"Alright, lean back."

Leaning back, he made himself comfortable, already feeling the potions in the water helping to ease the ache in his body and when Hermione brought her hands up to his shoulders, massaging away the aches and knots, at first it hurt until he found himself slumping against her, relaxing so much, he fell asleep.

~000~000~000~

**Three days later...**

"It's my turn," Hermione said, climbing from the Impala after Crookshanks jumped from her lap.

"Try to..."

"I know," she interrupted, not allowing him to finish as she walked towards the reception area.

To keep himself busy, Dean climbed from the car and moved to the trunk, removing each of their duffle bags and handing them to the correct owner.

"Two rooms, unfortunately, they're conjoined and the last ones available," Hermione said as she approached, an unpleased scowl on her face, one he knew he mimicked.

It was only one night, he reminded himself. They were stopping for some sleep and rest before they continued on their journey to their next destination the following day.

Dean didn't even try to scold Hermione when she walked past his father and slapped him upside the head. They'd both seen the smirk and known the words on the tip of his tongue. His father took far too much amusement in winding Hermione up, he'd have to have a talk with him at some point.

"Follow me, Winchesters," she said, not sparing them a second glance as she took the lead. She'd already reached the rooms before they were halfway across the parking lot.

The moment she stepped inside and disappeared from view, a scream sounded from and as fear and worry spiked through him, Dean didn't stop to wait for Sam or his father, or heed their words as he dropped his duffle bag to the ground, pulled his gun in broad daylight and darted to the room, his boots clanging against the metal staircase.

He'd almost kicked the door open in his haste to get to Hermione and the moment he stepped into the room, his eyes surveying his surroundings for threats, his entire body sagged in relief. Feeling a presence behind him, he knew Sam and his father had arrived and peering over his shoulder, he saw their surprised expressions. Dean wasn't all that surprised, if he were honest, and he was torn between laughing and scolding Hermione for putting the fear of God in him.

Looking past the two double beds, round table and chairs, closet and TV, there was a small kitchenette in the corner of the room and stood, leaning over the old-looking oven, practically hugging it as she _cried_ , was Hermione.

"Shit! You scared the hell out of me!" Dean breathed out, stuffing his gun back into the waistband of his jeans.

"Dean, look! We have an oven! An actual oven!" She exclaimed, a tear falling down her cheek and he heard Sam's snort from behind him. He watched as she fiddled with the knobs and buttons and lit the stove, an excited cry slipping from her lips. "God! It works! It's an oven that works! It's an oven in a motel room that works! I love this place!"

She darted across the room and over to him, pulling him into a tight hug that squeezed the oxygen from his lungs and he patted her back as she cried into his chest, sending a glare over his shoulder at his amused brother and father. Crying from nightmares he could deal with. Crying from anger he could deal with. Sadness, not an issue. But this, he had no idea what to do.

She pulled back from him, wiping at her eyes. "God, Dean, we can have a home-cooked meal. No fast food or diners. A proper home-cooked meal. The Lord does have mercy. We're going shopping, right now! We need groceries! I'm making a roast for dinner."

"A roast?" Sam spoke up from behind him.

"Yes, a roast, will all the trimmings. What should we have? Pork? Beef? Lamb? Chicken? Turkey? No, not turkey, I'm not keen on it. Chicken? Beef? No, it's too common. Lamb it is. _Please_ let me find a decent joint of lamb," she begged.

"A roast? For four people?" Sam repeated.

"Yes," Hermione's brow furrowed. "I can't remember the last time I had a proper roast. It's tradition in England. Most families have a Sunday roast _every_ week, no matter how many attend. I know my family did and there were only three of us. God, we have to have Yorkshire puddings. I need flour and eggs and milk and... Oh, but the oven's so small and the meat will take hours to cook, but... It'll be worth the wait and the effort. We should leave now. Let's go,"

She grabbed Dean's hand and dragged him out of the motel room, looking over his shoulder he saw Sam's and his father's amused expression.

"With a reaction like that... You think it's that time of the month?" His father asked Sam.

Dean's eyes widened slightly, being glad Hermione couldn't reach the knife stashed up his sleeve and that they were in public, otherwise, she'd demonstrate how good her aim was and use his father as a target.

"I heard that, Arsehole!" Hermione called over her shoulder lightly, halting in her steps before she reached the staircase. It seemed she was in such a good mood from finding an oven, of all things, in her room, that not even his father's comments could anger her. "And for that comment, not only have you lost your dessert privileges. When it _is_ my time of the month, you can be the one to go to the shop and buy me my tampons."

His father shrugged casually and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Not like I haven't done it before."

"For your son's girlfriend?" She arched her eyebrow, pleased with herself when Sam snorted. "That's what I thought. Not only is it weird, but I plan on making that trip a living hell for you. I'm talking tampons, ice-cream, chocolate, painkillers, food, the whole shebang and you're paying for it. All of it."

Dean sighed; one of these days, he'd get through the day without an argument between his father and Hermione or his father and Sam.

~000~000~000~

**Three days later...**

"We need to find him," Dean grumbled, dropping the newspaper on to the table and leaning back in his chair.

He sat in his father's room with him and Sam whilst Hermione was sleeping in the room next to them. She wasn't very well. It wasn't a sickness bug or food poisoning, they weren't quite sure what it was, to be honest, but she hadn't been well all day. She'd had a migraine so bad she complained of blurry vision and despite taking painkillers and a magical painkiller on the sly without his father seeing, it hadn't helped much and she'd slept during most of the journey in the back seat of the car with Dean beside her and the three cats surrounding her, trying to offer comfort.

They'd gotten lucky that day. They'd only been in town a matter of hours and whilst Hermione stayed in bed, he, Sam and his father had done some investigating into the case they picked up, accidentally stumbling upon the shape-shifter which they'd easily managed between them. Now, they were gathered, discussing the demon-killing gun they had in their possession and where they'd find the one they were looking for.

"I know, Dean," his father sent him an annoyed glare.

"And you've reached out to everyone?" Sam questioned.

"Yes,"

" _Everyone_?" He repeated.

"Yes," his father snapped, rubbing at his temples with his fingers. "Every hunter, even the ones that refuse to speak to me."

"Maybe we should ask Bobby, he could put the word out," Sam suggested.

"Did that last week," Dean reminded him. "No one's got back to him. Wherever the hell he is, he's laying low."

"He's up to something, I know he is," his father said, his eyes locked on the Colt that sat on the surface of the table.

"Of course he is, he didn't kill Jess for nothing," Sam lost his temper and Dean eyed them both as they glared at one another.

"Stop it, I don't have the energy to be the mediator today," Dean interrupted their staring match, their glares moving to him. "Maybe we should look over past cases, or search for more incidents regarding arson deaths. There might be a pattern, a way to track him."

"Tried it, didn't work," his father sighed.

"Yeah, but you didn't have me, Sam or Hermione. Research is their forte, it's what they do."

"She's got a wicked right hook on her, too," Sam's mouth twitched, his eyes darting to their father's nose and he reached out, slapping Sam upside the head, sending him a look of warning. Dean sighed and rolled his eyes.

"We need to figure this out. The longer it takes, the longer he's out there and able to hurt others. The longer he's free."

"You seem pretty desperate to get rid of me," his father commented.

"It's not that, Dad," Dean grumbled, shifting in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. "This has been going on for twenty-two years. It's time we finished this once and for all. And you're my dad, I do like us all being together again, a family, but not _all_ the time. It's not the same anymore, I've got Hermione now and I need to think about her. You deliberately aggravate her."

"It's _really_ fun," he smirked.

"You need to stop. I thought you would've when she threw that knife at you last week; clearly, you've got a screw loose. Sooner or later, she'll snap and you haven't seen what she's capable of. There's a reason we deliberately keep her away from you," he said, seeing Sam's eyes widen in surprise, his gaze darting between him and their father. Dean almost rolled his eyes, as if he'd reveal Hermione's secret. "She tolerates you the best she can but if we leave the two of you alone for too long, I honestly think she'll do more damage than a split lip and a bloody nose."

"She's a feisty little thing," his father nodded in agreement.

"Why do you annoy her so much? Do you hate her, is that it?" Dean frowned.

His father blinked slowly. "Why would you think I hate her?"

Dean shared a look with Sam, both of them wondering if their father _did_ have a screw loose.

"I annoy her 'cause it's fun, not 'cause I hate her. I've told you before that I like her."

"I hope so," Dean eyed him cautiously.

"Why's that matter anyway?" He arched an eyebrow.

"She's my girlfriend, my first priority is making sure she's happy and safe."

"There's more to it than that, I know there is. I know you better than anyone," he tipped his head to the side thoughtfully.

"Not better than Hermione, I've changed a lot since I met her."

His father opened his mouth to reply, only the lights suddenly flickered and three pairs of eyes darted upwards before looking to one another.

"Not that suspicious," Sam said.

Dean was going to nod in agreement; it could've just been a dodgy light bulb, only it happened again.

"Still, it's likely nothing," Sam said, but his gaze was focused on the light above.

It happened again, this time the room plunging into darkness for three seconds exactly before the light came back on.

All three of them stood from their chairs, each pulling their handguns and his father reaching for the Colt. Dean moved to the window, hiding from sight as he peeked out, his eyes searching any hostile persons or potential threats. The one most likely would be a demon, word would likely have gotten out amongst them that they were searching for one in particular. They had to be more careful than ever.

"There's no one out there," Dean said.

The room plunged into darkness once more, lasting five seconds before the light flickered back on.

They silently looked to one another, making a plan of action. And then a blood-curdling scream sounded from the room to the right. His and Hermione's room.

He didn't wait for anyone as he dashed out of the door and flung the other one open, his gun held out before him in preparation to fire, to defend and protect Hermione, his eyes did a quick scan of the room seeing nothing but three anxiously pacing cats and Hermione thrashing about in the centre of the bed.

"No! It's a fake! We didn't steal it, please don't! Stop!" She shrieked, she screamed, she cried.

"Fuck!" Dean cursed, darting over to the bed and climbing on, wrestling Hermione's arms down by her sides and pinning her against him, limiting her movement.

"Stop! No!"

"It's okay, Baby, she's gone, you're safe," Dean muttered into her ear, the words of _Hey Jude_ soon slipping past his lips, alternating between muttering them and humming the tune, his fingers slipping beneath her t-shirt and trailing over the skin of her stomach. He used every trick he'd learned to calm her and slowly she settled, her screams dying down into cries and whimpers.

Darting his gaze to the door, he saw Sam's saddened expression and his father's horrified one. This was something Hermione never wanted either of them to see. It was too personal.

"Sammy, get him out of here," he instructed, his voice gravelly and his throat burning. He _hated_ seeing her so frightened, so troubled.

He hated that he couldn't protect her from her nightmares, her memories. This was one of the worst he'd seen yet and he didn't know why. Did it have something to do with her being ill? Was this particular time of the year traumatic during the war? Was it a one off occurrence? He didn't know but he'd have to speak with Hermione and see if she knew.

His father made to speak, whether it was about what he'd witnessed or the flashing lights, something Dean now knew had been Hermione's doing, he didn't have the chance to voice it as Sam grabbed his arm and pulled him from the room, sharing a nod with him that they'd speak later and he closed the door.

Dean released a sigh and picked up his mutterings and humming until Hermione settled, he was sure her sleep wasn't without bad memories but she'd calmed.

He wasn't sure what time it was but he'd dozed off at some point and he startled awake when there was a knock on the door and Sam stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He grabbed a chair from the table and dragged it over to the bed, taking a seat beside it, his worried gaze darting between him and Hermione's sleeping form, not missing the furrow in her brow.

"Dad's gone for a walk," he answered his unasked question. "We can talk. So, what the hell was that? Did she...with the lights?"

Dean sighed and nodded, shifting Hermione in his arms slightly. "I think so. I've seen her set curtains on fire and smash a vase, this was a first but we both know magic and electricity don't mix."

"This was close, Dean. Really close. I think he suspects something."

"He does," Dean muttered and Sam's eyes widened. "I didn't tell you 'cause I didn't want you to worry, but when the kids visited and we took them out, dad asked Hermione some weird questions about magic and being in the military."

"Fuck!" Sam cursed, his worried gaze darting to Hermione and then back to him.

"She headed him off as best she could, telling the truth without revealing too much, but after tonight, we'll have to keep a close eye on him. She can _never_ be left alone with him, not even for five minutes."

"Her safety's our number one priority," he nodded in agreement. "But, Dean, say dad did find out. What would you do? What if he harmed her? I've seen how protective you are of her when she's targeted by the supernatural? What if it's dad that hurts her?"

Dean took a deep breath, his eyes darting down to Hermione's face.

"If that's the case, I'd never forgive him. If he can't accept her, if I'm forced to choose between them, I'd choose her. Every time." Dean knew from the silence that he'd surprised Sam.

"Hell," he muttered, giving his head a shake. Hermione was right. Sam _did_ need a haircut. "She really means a lot to you, doesn't she?"

"Do you think I'd still be with her after all this time if she didn't? That I'd willingly choose her over dad even if it meant losing him?"

Sam tipped his head, a knowing look entering his eyes as he spoke his next words. "You gunna marry her?"

Dean felt his stomach knot and his mind go fuzzy.

"I don't know," he answered. "Regardless, we don't need to marry to be together."

Sam hummed thoughtfully but didn't reply.

The door suddenly burst open, almost slamming against the wall and his father stepped in.

"Dad!" Dean hissed, throwing him a murderous glare when he felt Hermione shift in his arms and he wasn't the only one, Crookshanks startled awake and levelled him with a cold narrowing of the eyes.

His father didn't reply as he closed the door behind him and the crossed over to the bed, standing on the opposite side of where Sam perched on the chair, folding his arms over his chest and spearing them with a narrowed gazed of his own. He and Sam glanced at one another and then back to him.

"What the hell happened?" He demanded, thankfully, his voice not too loud so Hermione woke.

"None of your business," Dean replied, whilst Sam answered, "Dodgy light bulb, they sent someone over to change it after you left. Shouldn't have any more problems now."

He looked to Sam, his gaze cautious and disbelieving before his eyes moved to Hermione's sleeping form and then to him.

"What happened?" He repeated.

"None of your business, that's between Hermione and me," Dean answered.

"Like hell it is! No one has a reaction that like over nothing," he whispered-shouted.

Crookshanks stood from his place curled up at the end of the bed with Sadie and Domino and padded over to Hermione, settling himself half on the mattress and half on Hermione's stomach, almost as if he were protecting her and sending his father a warning, and his head rested in such a way that he watched his father distrustfully. Dean _loved_ the damn cat.

"Just tell him, Dean," Sam muttered, pushing his hand through his hair.

"No," he argued.

"Fine, I'll tell him, at least she won't be mad at me for long," he sighed.

"Well, I'm waiting?" Their father said impatiently.

"I told you before, she has nightmares and had a fucked up childhood. What you saw was a bad one."

His gaze darted to Dean and he released a slow breath.

"You know she was a soldier, what you don't know is, during her time serving her country, she and some of her war buddies were captured by the enemy side." His father's eyes widened slightly, understanding the implication of his words. "They _tortured_ her for hours before she was rescued. She doesn't like to tell people. She doesn't want their pity or apologies. She survived and she deals with the consequences the best she can."

Dean honestly didn't know how to react when he saw his father's expression soften slightly, his gaze raking over Hermione's slumbering form slowly, as if searching for something.

"You know," he muttered, "I've caught sight of a few scars on her. I'd just assumed they were from hunting."

"Some are, the majority are from battle," Dean answered, "And if she finds out you know what happened to her, she'll kick all of our asses."

His father nodded. "I won't say anything. I guess that's why she retired after only two years of service. She mentioned PTSD before, too."

"Yeah," he and Sam agreed, sharing a look. "I'll back off for a few days."

"She'll get suspicious," Sam pointed out. "Just maybe dial it down a little instead."

Their father nodded before he glanced at Hermione once more and then headed for the door.

"That was weird, right?" Sam asked, once the door was closed and his father had gone.

"Very,"

~000~000~000~

**Two days later...**

"I think this is my favourite," Dean mused. "You should buy this one next time."

"Your favourite, really? Why?" She asked, her hand running through his hair as she watched TV and he laid across the bed in such a way that his head was propped against her stomach whilst Sadie was sprawled across his, happily purring as he ran his hands through her fur.

"It smells like apples," he shrugged. And God, did he love the smell of apples. It reminded him of her. "And it's green, _not_ pink. Like the others you've bought."

"Sammy, what'd you think?" Hermione asked, looking to her left where Sam was sprawled on the second bed, his eyes closed and his hands running through the fur of Domino and Crookshanks, one laid across his stomach, the other laid beside him.

"Hmmm, not bad, but I like the coconut one better," he answered.

Dean rolled his eyes. "That one freaks me out; you look like a porcelain doll when it's dried."

Both Hermione and Sam snorted in amusement.

"Well, I guess I'm buying both next time," she said.

"Grab some clay masks, too, we haven't done one in a while," Sam commented. "And we're almost out of that charcoal face scrub, too, so you should probably get some more of that."

Dean hummed in agreement, a sigh slipping from his lips when Hermione's nails lightly scraped at his scalp as they ran through his hair.

"Yeah, and I used the last of the face cleanser this morning," Dean added.

"Make me a list, boys," she rolled her eyes, "And if we have time before we leave tomorrow, I'll head out and do a bit of shopping."

The door opened and none of them bothered to look up, knowing who it was already. His father had the key and if he were anyone but himself, he wouldn't have gotten past the salt, demon trap or the cats.

"What the..." He trailed off.

They each looked to him, seeing his wide eyes and parted mouth, the bag of food dangling from only one finger as he'd almost dropped it in his surprise.

Yes, he, Hermione and Sam were all relaxing after a stressful day of hunting, and yes, they were all currently sporting a green face mask whilst Sam had his customary cucumber slices slotted over his eyes, and Dean couldn't find it in himself to care or be embarrassed as his father stood before them. Not only did it make Hermione happy that he was willing to do this with her, but he was secure enough in his masculinity that he could now admit to enjoying a pamper session every once in a while.

"You were gone a while? What did you decide on?" Hermione asked.

His father's gaze darted between each of them and then settled on Hermione. "You've broken my sons," he muttered, looking horrified.

"Don't be ridiculous," she rolled her eyes before she took a deep inhale through her nose. "I smell something spicy, what, Indian? Curry? I _love_ Indian. You remembered the naan bread, right? I can't have a curry without naan bread."

Dean snorted in amusement, closing his eyes and laying his head back against Hermione's stomach.

"You've broken them," he muttered.

"Why don't you join us? I'm sure you'd like it if you gave it a try. I have a spare face mask in the bathroom." His father didn't reply, he was speechless. "Suit yourself," she shrugged. "Boys, time to wash this off."

"Five more minutes, Hermione," Sam sighed.

"No, we were supposed to wash it off ten minutes ago, you've already had your extra time. We need to wash it off, besides, food's here."

"I'm going for a walk," his father mumbled, setting the food on the table and then leaving out the room once more.

"I think I broke your dad," Hermione commented as the door shut behind him.

~000~000~000~

When his father next stepped into the room, all three of them had already eaten their dinner, and it was to the sight of Sam laying beside Hermione whilst he watched TV and she held his right hand in her left, her free hand holding both a nail file and a pair of nail clippers as she cut the nail on his index finger and then filed and reshaped it. Dean lay across the foot of the bed, propping himself up on his elbow, two bottles of nail polish held in his grasp as he looked to Hermione questioningly.

"What do you think, Sammy? Candy-apple red or classic red?" Hermione asked, not taking her attention away from tending to his middle finger.

Sam darted a glance to Dean's hand. "Candy-apple's got a bit of sparkle to it, I'd say that for your fingernails and classic for your toes," he answered.

"Good choice," she nodded in agreement.

Silently, Dean set one aside before opening the classic red nail polish and then leaning closer to Hermione's feet which were propped up by a pillow, starting with the big toe on her right foot.

"Oh My God," his father muttered, Dean briefly glancing towards him and seeing him scrubbing his hands over his face, as if not believing what he was seeing.

"Jon, glad to see you made it back. I was getting worried," Hermione said, not taking her attention from Sam's little finger. "I hope you grabbed something to eat during your walk, I'm sad to say, eating cold curry isn't very nice and I'm not going to lie, I was still hungry to I ate yours, too," she informed him, both him and Sam snorting at her.

"What've you done to my boys?" He whispered in horror.

"Nothing," she rolled her eyes. "Do you want to join us? You're looking a little stressed. A good pamper session can do wonders for stress. No? Very well, but you don't know what you're missing. When was the last time you had sex?"

His father made a surprised choking sound and he and Sam shared an amused look, barely holding in their sniggers.

"A good looking chap like you, I'm sure you could have any woman you wanted falling at your feet. Just make sure to check their ID, wouldn't wanna shag a minor, would you? God, think of the drama," she shivered. "I'll tell you what, you find yourself a pretty woman and bring her back to your room, and I'll take the boys out for a beer to give you some privacy, you know, thin walls and all that? Tonight I'll be your fairy Godmother, Papa Winchester, you shall get laid tonight!" Hermione sang.

The moment the door slammed shut, he and Sam burst out laughing, Sam taking his hand from Hermione and holding his ribs whilst Dean had to put the lid back on the nail polish to stop him from getting it everywhere.

"Enjoying yourself?" Dean asked her.

"Immensely," she smiled, pleased with herself.

"God that was the best thing ever!" Sam laughed, wiping away a fallen tear of laughter and taking a deep breath. "I love you."

"Hey, back off, get your own witch," Dean called, reaching over to hit the bottom of Sam's sock-clad foot with the TV remote. "Please tell me you're not done."

"Of course not," she smiled brightly. "You mad at me?"

"Baby, I've never been prouder," he grinned.

~000~000~000~

"You need a haircut."

"I don't need a haircut," his father argued.

"Yes, you do, I can see the resemblance between you and Sam. I see he got that loo brush hair from you."

"I don't have to take this abuse from you," his father said, storming out of the room for the fifth time that night.

~000~000~000~

"Face mask, Jon?"

"No,"

"You look like you need it."

"Hell will freeze over before I ever agree to a _pampering session_ ," he said, striding for the door.

"You going for a walk again? Do me a favour? Grab me something from the vending machine, I'm starving!"

~000~000~000~

"I've never felt more relaxed," his father sighed.

Dean and Sam shared an amused look, both sprawled on the second bed in the room, one watching TV, the other reading a magical textbook disguised to look like an American History book.

"I told you, you should listen to me more often. I know what I'm doing. Left hand now."

He lifted his left hand and exchanged it for his right, Hermione took it and she set to work on his thumb first. He reached up and repositioned the slice of cucumber over his right eye, shifting slightly to get more comfortable on the bed where he lay beside Hermione who was sat, propped up by pillows, the smell of apples surrounding him as his face was covered by the green mask.

"What do you think? You like it?"

"Hmm, but I think I'd prefer something else. I'm not fond of the green colouring."

"Well, Sammy likes the coconut one, it's white. But then there's honey, almond, tea tree and mint, charcoal clay, strawberry, that one's pink and I think it'd suit you lovely. I said I'd go shopping tomorrow before we leave and stock up."

"Okay, get one of each," he replied, sounding sleepy and Sam couldn't hold in his snort.

"You've broken him," Sam mouthed and Hermione smiled proudly, even as she clipped and filed his nails.

"Well, this will do wonders for your skin. Your chances of finding a willing woman will only double. So, Jon, _are_ you having sex tonight?"

Dean and Sam burst into sniggers.

~000~000~000~

**Two days later...**

"It's not mine," said Sam from the back seat.

"Not mine," his father said from beside Sam.

"Not mine either, must yours, Baby," Dean said.

Hermione frowned before she lifted her jacket from the floor of the car and dug through her pockets, pulling out the ringing device.

"Hello?" She answered. "Harry? What's wrong?... Oh, thank God for that, you had me worried for a minute... What? Really? That's brilliant... Give them my love... I don't know yet... I know I'm cutting it close but there's nothing I can do about it... That's fine... Hey, Sweetie... I don't know, we're a little busy working right now... Sure..."

Dean darted his eyes to Hermione when she held out the phone towards him. Raising an eyebrow, he took it from her.

"Someone wants to speak with you," she said.

Curiously, he brought the phone up to her ear, making sure to keep his eyes on the road.

"Hello?"

"Uncle Dean?"

Dean felt a smile tug at his mouth, recognising the voice on the other end.

"It's me, what's up, Buddy?"

"Mummy's tryna get Albus ready for bed but he keeps running off," he said and Dean chuckled. "And she's mad as daddy 'coz he's won't help her. He's hiding in the bathroom." Dean's laugh grew louder and he shook his head, imaging the happenings at the Potter house at that very moment. "Daddy said I could talk to you before I go to bed. It's Christmas soon, are you coming to see us?"

Dean's eyes darted to Hermione and then to the rear-view mirror, seeing his brother and father in the back seat, one pretending not to listen in, the other blatantly doing it.

"I don't know yet, Bud, we're very busy hunting, and we're looking for a bad man that's hurt a lot of people."

"Okay," he muttered sadly. "But I have a present for you. And Albus misses you, and mummy wants to see you. She thinks you're pretty, she tells daddy all the time."

Hermione snorted from beside him, obviously being able to hear part of the conversation giving how close she was to him and Dean felt his mouth twitch in amusement.

"Tell your mom I think she's very pretty, too," he replied, his mouth twitching into a smile when Hermione rolled her eyes and then whacked him in the arm with the back of her hand. "If we're not busy, we'll try to come and see you."

"You promise?"

"I promise. Now, I better go, I'm driving and I know it's your bedtime. Be good for your mom."

"I will, bye Uncle Dean."

"See ya later, Bud," he said, waiting for the line to go dead before he snapped the phone shut and handed the phone back to Hermione.

"What was that about?" His father asked.

"None of your business," he replied.

"You know, he couldn't get me off the phone fast enough, all he wanted was to speak to his favourite Uncle Dean," she said amused.

"It's not my fault the kids love me," he shrugged.

"Well, it seems I'm about to become an Aunt again."

"What?" Both he and Sam said together.

"That's what Harry called to tell me, Angie's pregnant, twelve weeks."

"Seriously?" Sam raised his eyebrow, already knowing how many nieces and nephews she had.

"Yes, Weasley genes," she shrugged, her gaze moving to Dean. "So, what should we do?" She asked, looking at him pointedly.

His gaze darted between his father, brother and then Hermione. "We'll talk about it later."

~000~000~000~

**Two days later...**

"Shit!"

"There's too many of them!"

"Hermione!"

"Boys! Where are you!"

Dean was furious! He'd told his father to wait for Hermione to get back, he'd told him it was too risky to go in without checking their surroundings, but did he listen, of course he fucking didn't. As a result, they'd walked right into a nest of vampires. And not just any nest, but a huge-ass one. Dean had never seen so many vampires in one place. They outnumbered them almost three to one despite there being four of them. Dean hoped that Hermione was able to use her magic to speed up the task of killing them, dropping their numbers to something more manageable and without his father seeing, too, because that would not be good right now.

He couldn't find her. He hadn't seen her since he and Sam had rushed in after his father, trying to stop him from doing something stupid but it was too late. He knew she was there, he'd heard her cursing in another language the moment she stepped into the fight, and he knew his father would be getting an earful from her if they made it out alive, likely a broken nose, too.

He did his best to fight off the vampires that had chosen him as their next meal whilst also searching for Hermione. When in a crisis such as this, she was the one person he wanted by his side.

He'd just taken the head off a vampire, only angering the two that stood before him and he climbed over a crate and dropped down onto the other side, right where Sam was cornered by three vampires.

"I can't find, Hermione," he said, his eyes darting between the vampires in front of them, and then he spun back to back with Sam when the two he'd been fighting appeared behind them.

"She's here somewhere, I heard her scream of outrage," Sam said, brandishing his machete threateningly.

"We're surrounded," Dean grumbled.

"Obviously, how many of them is there? I've already killed two."

"Me too," Dean replied. "And I've seen at least four of them dead, there must be more of them somewhere else and they called for backup."

"That's something we could use right now."

"Boys! Duck!" They'd recognise that voice anywhere and they were both quick to do as told, beams of light flying over their heads, slamming straight into the two vampires behind them and taking down one in front of them. "Run! Find Jon, I'll take care of these."

They couldn't see where she was so she'd likely hidden herself with her magic and though Dean didn't want to leave her with five furious vampires, three of them she'd blasted with her magic, he grabbed Sam by his jacket and pulled him up before darting through the gap she'd cleared for them.

As they ran through the maze that was the abandoned warehouse, an explosion sounded behind them. Dean didn't dare look back, knowing if he did, he wouldn't be able to resist running back to Hermione's side.

When they finally found their father, he had a few cuts on cheek, forehead and chin, and he, himself, had a few cuts and bruises forming, as did Sam. None of them were getting out uninjured. He was surrounded and they tried to fight their way to him, only, somehow, they ended up backed up against the wall and surrounded, too, whilst their father had the same issue on the other side of the room. There was too many of them to make it out alive.

Out of nowhere, Hermione appeared and she fought her way through to his father, standing beside him. From across the room, he saw her gaze lock with his and even at the distance separating them, he could see the intention in her eyes. He felt himself paling and his stomach twisted painfully.

"Hermione, don't do it!" He called.

"I have to! We have no choice if we want to get out of this alive!" She called.

Sam, suddenly understanding what was going to happen, silently swore.

"Hermione, he's right! You can't do it!"

"I have no choice!" She repeated. "We'll deal with the consequences later!"

"What the hell are arguing about! We have other things to worry about!" His father yelled, darting his eyes between them and then moving back to the vampires who were slowly, teasingly, drawing closer, caging them in.

"Hermione, don't! Please! I can't lose you!" He found himself begging. _Begging_!

"I'm sorry, Dean, I need you alive. This is the only way. Do it!"

"No!"

"Dean, do it! Now!"

"NO!" He refused.

"Sammy! Grab his necklace and call _Portus_!"

"Why!"

"Do it now! And don't let go!"

Sam's eyes barely glanced at her before his hand darted up to the necklace that had fallen out from beneath Dean's shirt and before Dean could wrestle it free from his grasp, Sam called out, " _Portus_!"

The last thing he saw before being swept up in a tornado, was the advancing vampires, Hermione's worried gaze as she pulled her wand and blasted the vampires with beams of light, and his father's surprised and furious expression.

And then he was gone.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 22

“Dean, calm down,” Sam muttered, sat on the edge of the mattress, watching as Dean paced back and forth, muttering to himself, his hands alternating between tugging at his hair and readjusting his grip on his handgun, having since abandoned his machete on the ground.

The moment they’d landed in the motel room, something Dean hadn’t expected knowing Hermione had spelled the necklace to take him to her house in Manning, he’d lost it. Worry and fear swarming him like it never had before. He knew the consequences of Hermione revealing herself to his father would be bad. Very bad.

Fuck! How long had it been? One minute, two, three, five? He didn’t know and the longer he paced, the longer he waited, the more worried he grew. Something was wrong. He knew it.

A sharp ‘crack’ sounded and Dean’s pacing halted to a stop and Sam dashed from the bed, catching Hermione in his arms before she fell to the ground.

His father stood, bracing his hands against his knees as he doubled over, coughing and dry heaving. Dean’s eyes darted between them, seeing the gun gripped in his hand and Hermione’s pained, pale expression, her wand fallen from her grasp and lay on the ground and her hands were pressed tightly against her stomach, blood coating her fingers and soaking through her white t-shirt.

He didn’t both asking what had happened. Vampires didn’t carry weapons, they had no need for them and they wouldn’t use them. And he knew a gunshot wound when he saw one. Why would she risk teleporting when she was injured? Unless, it happened mid-teleportation? She was taken by surprise?

“Sammy, it hurts,” she whispered, a tear leaking from the corner of her frightened eyes as she stared up at him.

“You’re...” He composed himself, taking a breath. “You’re going to be fine, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she whispered, her eyes drooping tiredly.

“Hermione? Hermione? Stay with me. You can’t fall asleep. I’ll make you a deal, if you can keep your eyes open, I’ll let you give me a haircut. Deal?”

“I really must be dying,” she muttered, her head tilting to press against his shoulder.

“No, you’re going to be fine,” he argued, shifting her in his arms before he rose to his full height and quickly crossed over to the bed, settling her on the centre of the mattress and propping her head up with the pillows.

Dean barely registered the interaction, the movement or Sam rushing to the bathroom to collect towels; rather, his gaze remained on his father who was slowly regaining his bearings after facing Hermione’s teleportation.

The moment he rose to full height, his eyes searching his surroundings and soon landing on Hermione, bleeding out on the bed, an expression of anger and disgust crossing his face and his grip on his gun tightened before his arm twitched, as if to take aim and fire another shot, something inside Dean snapped.

He saw nothing as his vision blurred, as fury burst within him, the need to defend and protect Hermione, and before he’d realised it, he’d darted across the room, grabbed his father by the collar of his jacket and slammed him against the wall so hard, he’d dropped his handgun in surprise and he left a crater beneath him.

His father blinked slowly, both from the disorientation and surprise, before his gaze landed on Dean’s furious expression, something he’d never before seen on him. He looked _murderous_.

“You fucking shot my girlfriend!” He spoke, his voice low and gravelly, something quite frightening to hear. “What the fuck’s wrong with you? If she dies, nothing will stop me from putting you in the ground.”

He blinked once more, processing his words. “Dean, she’s a witch,” he replied calmly.

“You don’t think I know that!” He exploded. “Do you think I’m stupid? That Sam’s stupid? We’ve always known. Why do you think we were so careful to keep you apart, why we were so secretive?”

“Dean, she must have you under a spell...”

He never got to finish his words as Dean pulled him away from the wall and slammed him back against it.

“Don’t you dare,” he warned. “There’s not a mean bone in her body, she would never do something like that. There’s no such thing as a Love Spell. I’m with her ‘cause I _want_ to be of my own free will. I knew she was a witch _before_ I asked her to hunt with me, _before_ we started dating. She saved my life with magic. For once, accept that I know more than you. That I know what’s best. She’s special. She was born with her magic, as were her siblings and her nieces and nephews, which is why the kids asked if you could do magic. There’s an entire community of witches and wizards, all of them _born_ with the magic. They hide from us for their safety and protection, they live their lives away from us and who can blame them? It’s people like you, us, they hide from, that are to blame for the Witch Trials which murdered their people and sent them into hiding.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Fuck off!” Dean raged. “You think I’m such a despicable human being that I could never care for someone without being under the influence of magic. That says more about you than it does me. I’m lucky to have that little witch and if she dies, I swear, I’ll reunite you with mom!”

“Dean, what’re doing?” Sam’s voice rose.

Dean barely spared him a glance, refusing to take his gaze from his father. He knew him and he knew he was waiting for the opportunity to grab his gun and fire another shot. If that meant he hurt Dean in the process, he didn’t care. He had to be prepared to duck a blow to the face or abdomen.

“I’m not letting him go, I don’t trust him.”

“Neither do I,” Sam replied. “But I could really do with another pair of hands.”

“I can’t leave him alone, Hermione’s too weak to use a spell to keep him in place. The moment I let him go, I know he’ll try to kill her.”

A ‘thud’ sounded from the other side of the room and despite Dean wanting to turn away from his father to see what it was, he wasn’t stupid enough to lose focus and allow his father an opening.

“Balls!”

Dean knew that voice anywhere.

“Dean, let go of him,” Bobby’s gruff voice ordered.

“No,” he replied, his grip tightening on his father’s collar.

“Let go, now.”

“Bobby? Thank God, someone who has a bit of sense,” his father said, looking relieved.

 _If only he knew_ , Dean thought.

He twisted to look over his shoulder, seeing Bobby stood across the room, his rifle aimed and pointed in their direction and a look of anger on his face. Dean understood. Hermione was like a daughter to him, and his best friend had harmed her. Dean knew Bobby wouldn’t take that lightly, especially since he wouldn’t even let him share a bedroom with her when they visited. This was an attempted murder. Bobby slowly approached and knowing he wouldn’t allow his father anywhere near Hermione, Dean reluctantly released his grip on his father’s collar before stepping back. 

He backed up until he stood beside the bed and Sam shoved a pile of towels in his arms, giving him a quick instruction to keep pressure on Hermione’s stomach to stop the bleeding. He rounded to the other side of the bed, absentmindedly doing as Sam ordered whilst his gaze remained on his father and Bobby, and Sam disappeared into the bathroom again.

Dean honestly wasn’t surprised when Bobby lowered the rifle, stepped closer and then balled his hand into a fist, it soon colliding with his father’s face with such a force, he stumbled back into the wall behind him.

“What the hell, Bobby!” His father called, spitting out blood from his mouth on the carpet.

“I warned you not to harm a hair on her head,” Bobby said.

“What? She’s got to you, too?”

Bobby raised his rifle, aimed it at him and narrowed his eyes. “I’ve known for years about her magic. She saved my life with it. When I said she’s an ally, I meant it. If she doesn’t pull through, I’ll personally find a demon to drag your soul to hell,” Bobby warned. “Now, get out.”

“What?”

“Get out, I don’t trust you with her safety and the boys aren’t gunna be able to help her if they’re too worried about you being here. We need to have a little chat, there’s something I need to show you.”

“How did you even get here?” His father asked.

“Get out and I’ll tell you.”

The two Hunters observed each other carefully before his father silently and slowly crossed over to the door, getting kicked in the back of the leg by Bobby when he paused to pick up his handgun, and Bobby followed him outside. If they were in a public place and he would be arrested for carrying and threatening someone with a weapon if seen, Bobby didn’t seem to care.

The moment the door closed, Dean’s tense form relaxed and worry coursed through him as he glanced down at Hermione, seeing her watching him with tired, frightened eyes. 

“What happened?” He asked her softly, pressing down harder on her stomach and a choked groan of pain caught in her throat.

“I killed as many of them as I could. I set the warehouse on fire and intended to apparate here, but when I reached your dad, he shot me mid-apparition. I could’ve killed him.”

“It’s no less than what he deserves,” he said, shooting an angry glance at the door.

“He’s your dad, Dean,” she replied.

“He’s an asshole, and once you’re all better, we’ll go to London and spend some time with the family, yeah? Give you chance to heal up. When we’ve found and killed the demon, we won’t have to deal with him again, I promise.”

“Are you saying what I think you are?” She asked weakly.

“I choose you over him, every time,” he confirmed, one blood-coated hand coming away from her stomach and cupping her cheek.

She leaned into it. “Dean, I’m scared,” she confessed in a whisper.

Hermione was the bravest person he knew. She didn’t get scared, she got angry or snarky.

“Baby, you’re going to be fine, I promise.”

“I don’t think I am,” she shook her head, a tear leaking from her eye and falling down her cheek. “I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry, but I had to save you and Sam. I had to protect you. There was too many of them, there was nothing else I could do. It had to happen.”

“Don’t talk, you need to reserve your strength...Sammy, get your ass in here now!” Dean bellowed, looking over his shoulder towards the bathroom and Sam soon bustled out, more towels held in his grasp and Hermione’s magic purse sat on top of them.

“Empty it,” Sam instructed, handing it to him. “Look for her first aid kit. She’s been teaching me about magical healing, I can’t use magic but if I can find the right potions, I might be able to help.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Sammy,” Dean commented.

“It’s this or we take her to a hospital, something we both know we can’t do. Not only due to the nature of the wound, but her magic will fry any piece of equipment within twenty feet of her.”

Dean’s brow furrowed, knowing he was right, so he turned his attention elsewhere. Unsure of what he was looking for, Dean emptied the contents of Hermione’s bag, being glad of the fact he’d convinced her to organise it a little better. Before everything would fall out individually, now, they fell out in boxes or suitcases, making it easier to find what they were looking for. His eyes searched the pile on the floor, finding both a magical and muggle first aid kit which he threw to Sam, and he went in search of Hermione’s potion stores, finding that to be an oddly crafted chest.

“I need water, something to wash away the blood.”

Dean retrieved a bowl from the box labelled with ‘kitchen‘ and filled it with water from the bathroom, quickly returning to Hermione’s side. He placed the bowl on the bedside table, one hand putting pressure on the wound and the other holding hers, squeezing it at intervals, trying to keep her awake. Meanwhile, Sam muttered and mumbled to himself as he searched through Hermione’s potions, already having a selection sat off to the side.

“Blood Replenisher,” Hermione reminded him weakly.

“Blood loss, right,” Sam nodded, quickly plucking it from the chest and adding it to the rest of the potion vials before setting the chest aside.

“You need to stop the bleeding, try Star Grass Salve, it’s stronger than the others and it should help with blood clotting.”

“Star Grass?” He questioned, moving to the chest he’d put aside and digging through the stores.

“Green metallic colourin’,” she slurred.

“Hey, stay with me,” Dean said, squeezing her hand a little harder.

“Doin’ my best, Honey.”

“Come on, we’ve been through worst than this, remember, you were almost blown up.”

“What? You kept that one quiet,” Sam reappeared by the bed.

“Vampires, before we met,” she muttered tiredly. “Use a third, don’t bother cleaning the blood, it should absorb it.”

Hermione winced and gripped Dean’s hand tightly as Sam removed the bloody towels and lathered the wound in the metallic green paste, his eyes widening slightly when a red smoke poured from the wound and Hermione cried out.

“Bastard! That stings like a bitch!”

“Sorry,” he apologised even though it wasn’t his fault. “Blood Replenisher?”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, her eyes dropping and seeing this and knowing the blood loss was taking its toll, he reached for the red potion vial and uncorked it, bringing it to her mouth. She tiredly opened her mouth and swallowed down the entire vial, it was better to be safe than sorry.

“You said not to mix the Dittany and Murtlap.”

“That was before I was shot, it’ll help heal the wound quicker despite the drowsiness and itchiness. I’m certain it was a through and through, so there’s no need to go digging about inside of me to remove the bullet.”

“Thank God,” Sam grimaced.

“I need sleep, and a Pain Potion.”

“Open up,” he instructed, selecting the dark purple vial and she gladly drank the contents, gagging at the after taste. “It’s stopped bleeding by the looks of it,” he said, still amazed at the advances in magical healing. It’d barely been a few minutes.

“Clean the wound with the Antiseptic Wound Cleanser, mix it three parts water. Let it dry and then cover it in Murtlap, wait a few minutes and use Dittany over the top and then use gauze and bandages to wrap the wound. They’ll need to be reapplied every couple of hours until it’s healed, I just hope I have enough.”

Dean kept his gaze on Hermione’s face as Sam did as instructed, tucking the edge of the bandage beneath the layer before it and then stepping back, scrutinising his handiwork.

“We’ll make a medic out of you yet,” Hermione mumbled and Sam smiled at her tiredly, releasing a breath and brushing a blood-coated hand through his hair.

“Get some sleep. I’ll try to reapply the pastes and bandages without waking you in a couple of hours.”

It seemed she’d been waiting for those words as barely moments later, her eyes fluttered closed, her breathing evened out and slumber took her. Dean didn’t release her hand as he perched on the edge of the mattress beside her and Sam dragged a chair across the room, sinking down into it with a tired sigh and he brushed his hair back from his face, smudging blood across his cheek. Neither of them made any movement to clean the mess of bloody towels, empty potion vials, bloody clothing or the sheets beneath Hermione.

“Thank you,” Dean muttered, now being able to look away from Hermione knowing she was going to be fine, he looked to his brother.

“Hmmm,” he hummed. “She’s like a sister to me, I wasn’t going to stand back and let her suffer. I’m just glad she thought ahead and started teaching me this stuff. It was bound to happen sooner or later that she’d get injured and we’d have to patch her up, rather than it being the other way around like it usually is. I reckon she’ll be fine in a day or two, possibly less given how advanced her magical healing is. So, what are you going to do about dad?”

“I don’t know,” Dean admitted, his gaze darting back to Hermione. “I almost lost her ‘cause of him. I’m never going to forgive him for hurting her. I get it’s difficult to understand, but neither of us had that kind of reaction when we learned the truth.”

“He’s hated the supernatural longer,” Sam shrugged.

“Yeah, and he raised us to do the same, and she’s _magical,_ not supernatural. He’s been with us for weeks, he should know her well enough to know she’d never harm an innocent, magic or not. And to assume she had me under a spell...” He trailed off, not sure how to feel about that.

“He’ll be back soon, Bobby’ll have set him straight. He loves her like a daughter and he won’t stand for anyone hurting her, you, me, or his best friend. How’d he even get here, anyway? He appeared out of nowhere. How’d he know to come here?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders. “Probably something to do with Hermione, she’s too clever for her own good.”

“She’s going to be fine.”

~000~000~000~

Hours passed after the night from hell and whilst Bobby and his father had yet to return, (not that he cared) Sam had fallen asleep awkwardly in the chair by the bed, Dean hadn’t moved from Hermione’s side, still holding her hand and watching her sleeping face, counting each of her breaths as her chest rose and fell evenly.

He knew he should get some sleep, the events of the night being draining, emotionally, physically and mentally, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He couldn’t bring himself to let down his guard should his father burst in and try and harm Hermione again, or should she suffer from some missed untreated injury in her sleep with no one to catch it. He was effectively standing watch for both her safety and health even if that meant he was sleep-deprived. He didn’t care.

The ringing alarm on Sam’s phone sounded in the room and Dean glared at it, as not only had it woken Sam, but Hermione and she needed her sleep. Sam bolted upright and was quick to switch it off, but not fast enough.

“Sorry, Hermione, didn’t mean to wake you,” Sam said sheepishly. “Go back to sleep, I just need to change your bandages.”

“I don’t think I can,” she shifted her body and winced, regretting the movement.

“You’re still hurt?”

“It still stings,” she answered, “But I can’t have any more Pain Relief Potions yet, try layering a drop or two or Numbing Potion beneath the Murtlap.”

“You’re the boss,” he smiled, standing from the chair and searching the chest before stepping up beside her with the vials, gauze and bandages in hand.

Dean didn’t complain when Hermione’s grip tightened on his hand as she cried out in pain, he was just thankful she appeared to be healing well. It barely took any time for Sam to finish wrapping the bandages and he retook his seat, and just when he and Hermione were dozing off, the door opened and both Bobby and his father stepped inside.

Bobby appeared to be without his rifle, Dean wondering where the hell he’d put it, and as the door closed behind them and they stepped into the dimly lit room, Dean could see they were both sporting injuries, evidence of a fist-fight having happened. Bobby had a bruise forming beneath his right eye, a split lip and a cut to his cheek, whilst his father had a bruise forming around his left side jaw, dried blood beneath his nose and a bump on his forehead. He was sure he’d have a few bruises on his back, too. Dean wasn’t going to apologise.

Both he and Sam stood to their feet, Sam positioning himself to block Hermione from his father’s line of sight, and whilst Bobby approached the bed, his father stayed back, silently waiting by the door. 

“Hey, Missy,” Bobby’s gruff voice softened as he stepped around Sam and sat on the edge of the bed, taking her proffered bloodstained hand in his grasp. “How you doing?”

“I don’t recommend getting shot, it hurts like a bitch,” she said, smiling tiredly.

“That’s my girl,” he muttered fondly, his eyes darting between the bloody mess that was the sheets, towels, clothing and their hands. “He won’t hurt you again, I’ve set him straight.”

“I can see that,” she frowned worriedly, eyeing his injuries. “Sammy, get the Bruise Removal Paste, please?”

Sam looked reluctant to do so, not wanting his father’s eyes to be able to gaze at Hermione, but he did so, handing it to her. Silently, she lathered the paste beneath Bobby’s bruising eye, ignoring his protests that ‘he was absolutely fine, there was nothing wrong with him and she needed to stop her fussing before _he_ shot her.’ Of course, she didn’t listen.

“With what?” She arched her eyebrow and Bobby grumbled beneath his breath.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine, I’ll be healed and back to normal in a day or two. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“I always worry about you,”

“The feeling’s mutual. For all I know, you’ve been out and bought more scary arse paintings and restocked on used batteries.”

“I haven’t,” Bobby denied.

“Oh Merlin, you have, haven’t you? What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m going home, I don’t have to take this abuse from you,” he scowled.

Sam and Dean shared a snort and Bobby squeezed her hand, stood from the bed, gave them both a nod, levelled their father with a threatening narrowing of the eyes, and then left out the door.

Silence immediately fell in the room, the tension growing thick, the atmosphere awkward.

Dean was mildly impressed that his father felt brave enough to close some of the distance them, especially with the murderous glare both he and Sam pinned him with. His gaze slowly darted between them before he looked to Hermione.

“You going to be alright?” He asked.

Dean’s jaw ticked and he felt Hermione’s hand squeeze his, in comfort, encouragement, warning, he didn’t know.

“Yes, luckily I’ve started teaching Sam about magical healing, I was able to guide him through the process, but he did pretty well on his own,” she replied calmly, sending Sam a proud smile before turning her eyes back to him.

“I’m not apologising,” he said, stuffing his hand in his pockets and barely batting an eyelash at the bloodstained mess that was the room.

Dean would’ve rounded the bed and punched his father in the face if Hermione didn’t have such a tight grip on his hand.

“I wasn’t expecting you to, you’re an arsehole.”

“And you’re a witch.”

“That’s not an insult, merely a fact,” she responded. “I’m a trueborn magical witch. I can’t control that I have my magic, it’s a blessing, a gift that I cherish every day, something I never take for granted. You’ll find that the ‘magic’ from Hell isn’t magic at all; it’s but a cheap and lousy imitation. And don’t even get me started on their pathetic use of hex bags. It’s an insult to the trueborns, and it holds no power over us. Put me against a trueborn, I reckon I could take two, three at a push. Put me against soul-selling, sacrificial imitators, I’m confident I could take double that. We are humans, we bleed the same, we require the same elements to function, we have the same desires, only, we have magic rather than science and technology. You had no reason to harm me, and yet you did.”

“I’d just discovered you were a witch,” he argued.

“A witch that has been hunting with your sons for the better part of a year, a witch who is dating your son. A witch, who uses her magic for good and never against the innocent. A witch, who saved your life and you repaid me with a bullet to the stomach. I know you hate the supernatural, but did it not occur to you that I was channelling my magic through a _wand_ ,” she reached over to the bedside table and plucked it from the surface, his father’s eyes darting to it. “That I magically teleported your sons out of danger, and that I did the same for you. Have you ever seen a witch capable of teleportation, of doing the things I did in that warehouse?”

“No,” he admitted.

“I thought so. You assumed the worst, you didn’t give me or Dean and Sam a chance to explain the circumstances and had I died, you’d have faced a massive backlash not only from Dean and Sam, not only from my family, but from my government and community. They have resources and power your government doesn’t. The people in power, the higher-ups, they know about our existence, they employ our people as politicians and officials and protectors, and they keep the peace and ensure our secret is kept. We help them, they help us. Nothing would’ve stopped them from seeking justice. And just so you know, I’m not apologising either.”

“For lying to me?”

“I _never_ lied to you. I am _not_ supernatural. I said magic was the family business and I meant it. And no, for this...”

Without warning, she’d muttered beneath her breath and flicked her wand, a flock of bright yellow canaries bursting into existence, flying overhead before darting down and towards him, his calls of surprise and annoyance sounding as they pecked at him. Sam burst into laughter, falling back to perch on the bed and Dean’s mouth twitched in both amusement and pride.

She took pity on him and ended the attack far too soon, Dean thought.

“What the hell!” His father glared at her, brushing the feathers from hair and clothing.

“I’ve been wanting to hex you since the moment we met, Dean convinced me it wasn’t worth it. Well, now that I’ve done it, I can say it really was. As I said, we don’t use pathetic hex bags.”

He narrowed his eyes before silently crossing over to the table, taking a seat and folding his arms over his chest.

“You lied to me about your military background.”

“No, I omitted details and allowed you to come to your own conclusion. I was a soldier and I did fight on the front lines, longer than I allowed you to believe. I also faced a great many other things.”

“You were a child soldier,” he stated knowingly.

“I was.”

“There was a war amongst your people, from what I could gather, inbred supremacists against the rest of you.”

Her mouth twitched. “Essentially, yes.”

“You won,”

“We did,”

He watched her curiously. “How’d you get into being a Hunter?”

“I spent a year in the magical police force and then swapped to magical creatures. Now, that, I did lie about. We have no government department surrounding the supernatural, as we don’t have them in our world, but we do know of their existence. Our magic is too strong and prevents them from entering. We have ghosts, werewolves and vampires, but they differ from the supernatural. I was technically a magical Hunter. I dealt with an array of creatures and beings, most you won’t have heard of.”

“Try me,” he challenged.

She cocked an eyebrow. “Acromantulas, veelas, doxies, bowtruckles, grindylows, hippogriffs, thestrals, house-elves, boggarts, dementors. Know any of them, Jon?” She asked innocently. He blinked slowly. “Thought not, boys, care to help him out?”

Dean shared a look with Sam before they both nodded.

“Acromantula, giant man-eating spiders, veelas, semi-human beings known for their beauty, can grow wings, talons and shoot fireballs from their hands. Doxies, a bit like a fairy but it has two sets of limbs, beetle-like wings, two rows of venomous teeth and is a magical house pest, like a spider or a moth. Bowtruckles, hand-sized, insect-eating, tree-dwelling creatures made from bark and twigs. Grindylows, basically small water demons,” Sam offered effortlessly.

Dean took up the mantle, enjoying his father’s surprised expression. “Hippogriff, half-eagle, half-horse, thestrals, winged horses that can only be seen by someone who’s witnessed death. House-elves, small elf-like beings who live to serve their masters, boggarts, a creature than can find, use and transform into your greatest fear to kill you. Dementors, dark creatures that feed on happiness and positivity and can remove the soul from the human body with a kiss.”

Hermione beamed at him proudly. “Well done, boys,” she praised, her gaze falling back to Jon.

He cleared his throat. “And things I might have heard of?”

Hermione’s mouth twitched into a smirk. “You want to tell him?” She looked to Dean.

“Sure,” he answered, looking back to his father. “Strap in,” he warned him. “Vampires, werewolves, sirens, spirits, pixies, fairies, gnomes, leprechauns, trolls, ogres, giants, unicorns, centaurs, dragons,” he listed easily, enjoying his father’s wide-eyed expression. “I miss any, Baby?” He tipped his head towards her.

“A few,” she nodded, “But let’s not overwhelm him, shall we? Wouldn’t want to break him.” Dean had never seen his father so quiet or so surprised. “I believe I once said you don’t know everything, nor have you experienced everything, and now, you know just how true that is. You may have been doing this longer than I have, but this is my life.”

“Dragons are real?” He questioned slowly, apparently finding his voice.

“Yes, one of my brother’s works in Romania on a Dragon Reserve, he breeds, raises and rehabilitates injured dragons.”

“I’ve got a headache,” he sighed, his hands coming up to his temples.

“Welcome to my world of magic.”

~000~000~000~

Dean’s head hurt.

He wasn’t quite sure what time it was and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. They’d spent the remainder of the night/early morning, keeping watch as his father talked to Hermione about the magic of the trueborns and the world she came from.

It wasn’t until the sun rose, that Sam and his father left to their own rooms and Hermione used her magic to clean them both up and clean the sheets and room, before they both settled down for sleep.

He didn’t know the time, sometime after lunch he’d guess and whilst both he and Hermione had woken around the same time a little while ago, neither had made a move to leave the bed and neither of them had spoken as they gazed at one another.

“I’m fine, Dean, I promise,” she said softly. “The pain’s gone and the wound’s healing a lot faster than I anticipated. I’m more worried about your relationship with your father.”

Dean scoffed. “What relationship?”

“Dean,” she sighed, “You should forgive him, no, hear me out, please,” she said, seeing he was going to interrupt and he snapped his mouth shut. “Yes, he harmed me, he tried to kill me, but he’s still your father. In some twisted way, he believed he was protecting you from me, that he was ridding the world of another evil being. Yes, he was wrong and he assumed the worst, but he believed what he was doing was the right thing to do. Life is too short to hold grudges and hatred. What he did was wrong and I know you want to protect me, but he’s your father and I won’t be mad at you should you forgive him. If I’m honest, I’d be impressed. It’d take an amazing amount of strength to do so, strength I know you have.”

“He tried to kill you.”

“He did, but I survived and I’m going to be fine. He’s your father, the only one you have. I’d give everything to have my parents back, and whilst yours is an arsehole, he’s alive and he’s here. Don’t take that for granted, please.”

“I almost lost you,” he muttered, his gaze tracing her face slowly.

“But you didn’t,” she said softly, lifting her hand to rest against his cheek and tipping her head forward until their foreheads touched. “And you’ll never lose me, I believe we both made a promise to haunt the other’s arse from the grave. Weren’t you going to peep on me in the shower?”

He felt his mouth twitch. “And you when I was changing?”

“Probably when you have a wank, too,” she nodded. He snorted in surprise. “What? It’s still December, it’s not my fault.” He shook his head at her in amusement. “My point is, even if I’d have died or if I ever do...” He frowned unhappily and settled his arm over her waist, mindfully tugging her against him protectively. “You will never be alone and I will always be with you. That is a promise.”

“I don’t like all this talk of death.”

“It’s a risk in our line of work,” she shrugged. “As for your father?”

“I’ll think about it, but I don’t think I’m as strong as you think I am.”

“Nonsense, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. Now, Christmas? You want to do it with my family?”

“After all the shit that’s happened and the stress we’ve been under, yeah, I do. I think it’ll be good to get away for a few days, and if I’m honest, I miss the kids.”

“You and me both,” she beamed at him. “Sam’s coming, too, I know he won’t turn down a chance to go back to London and see the others and even if he did, I’d just Body-bind him and levitate him along after us.” He snorted at her. “The hotels in London are probably going to be full due to the holidays, but Kingsley owes me a favour so I’ll see if he can pull a few strings and get us a couple of rooms somewhere. I’ll let Harry know later we’re coming but ask him not to tell the kids so we can surprise them. With the vampires now dealt with and it being Christmas Eve tomorrow, we can head out and do a bit of shopping, see if we can find anything for the kids, they love muggle stuff, Arthur, too.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“And if you’re good, I’ll make you a pie. Now that your father knows about me, I don’t have to hide the fact I use magic in everyday life, especially when cooking. It was a pain in the arse having to cook that roast the muggle way.”

“Hmmm, but it was the best roast I’ve ever eaten,” he replied, tipping his head to press a kiss to her throat and she sighed.

“Molly’s cooking’s way better than mine, she’s partially the reason I _can_ cook, actually. I’ll have to make something up; it’s tradition. Molly handles the Christmas dinner but everyone else contributes in some way. Angie brings the hot chocolate and marshmallows, Audrey brings the mince pies, Harry brings the nibbles and snacks, Ginny hates cooking,” she explained at his raised eyebrow. “Fleur always brings some foreign French dish we’ve never heard of but she’s yet to let us down, Charlie’s a rubbish cook so always brings the fire whiskey, and Lavender’s lazy so she usually buys something the day before to bring along. Me? I handle the dessert.”

“Pie?” He asked hopefully.

She snorted at him. “Not usually, no. Something more traditional, but I promise to make you any pie you wish this year, but if we take it to the Burrow, you’ll be expected to share it.”

“Not happening,” he scowled and she laughed at him.

“I always bake gingerbread men for the kids and they decorate them before they give them out, they eat them before they’re sent to bed for the night and the alcohol starts to flow freely with the kids being asleep. I gotta tell you, having a hangover the day after isn’t fun.”

He snorted. “Your potions?”

“George’s prank every year, he hides the damn things. We try to conceal them but he always finds them and hides them from us. If we don’t find them, we suffer the muggle way.”

“But he’d have to suffer, too,” he pointed out.

“No, the prat always takes his and hides ours. We’ve tried everything; hiding them, charming them, bringing more than one, threatening him with Molly, hexing him, nothing works. We’ve learned to live with it.”

“I can’t wait to see you in the morning,” he chuckled.

“It’s not pretty,” she sighed, “And I believe that if me being in an exceptionally fragile and hungover state doesn’t scare you aware, nothing will.”

“That bad?” He questioned amused.

“Yes, Charlie said he’d wrestle a dragon any day over dealing with me when I’m hungover.”

“Luckily for you, I don’t scare easily.”

“Famous last words,” she replied.

He opened his mouth to respond but it was replaced with a chuckle when Hermione’s stomach gave a growl of hunger, he supposed they’d missed breakfast and lunch and she’d been injured, too. She needed to keep her strength up.

“You jump in the shower and I’ll head out and grab us breakfast,” he said, pulling back from her and climbing from the bed.

“Just leave it, I’ve a few cereal bars in my bag that’ll take the edge off a little. We can both shower and head out after, grab something to eat and start shopping.”

“Alright then,” he agreed, never one to turn down the opportunity to shower with her, after all, that was how their relationship started.

He headed to the bathroom and set the shower to the right temperature, stripping from his clothing and stepping inside, Hermione joining him not long after, the water bouncing right off her bandages, keeping them dry.

“You never said how Bobby got here, or how I got here,” he said, massaging at her shoulders and she faced away from him. “I thought the necklace was charmed to take me to your house in Manning.”

“Originally, it was, yes, but then I realised if we were separated, that would be too far for me to apparate and I needed something closer. I started tinkering with the spell work when you were sleeping, so you never noticed. Now, the port-key will take you to the current place of our staying, don’t ask how, it gives me a headache just thinking about it. But now that it’s been used, I’ll have to recast the magic. As for Bobby, he’s got a port-key, too. One that’s tied into the location of my wand and should a large amount of my blood be spilt, he’ll receive a sixty second warning before he’s automatically transported to me. And he has a second port-key to return him back to the salvage yard. It was something I gave him before we met, just as a precaution.”

“You’re too clever for your own good.”

~000~000~000~

“Really? We are?”

Dean shared an amused glance with Hermione before turning back to face his excited brother.

“Yes, we are. I’ve already told Harry to let the others know to expect us, but we’re surprising the kids, and I’ve asked Kingsley to see if he can get us into a hotel by pulling a few strings, every where’s bound to be fully booked. ”

“Make sure you’re all packed up by tomorrow,” Dean said. “Hermione’s arranging for a port-key to take us to London, and with the time difference, we’ll have to get up early.”

“You’re coming, too,” she told his father, sending him a narrowed-eyed expression.

“I don’t want to,” he replied, sitting at the table on the other side of the room.

“I don’t give a toss what you want. You’re coming even if I have to drag you there by your bloody hair. This is the only chance you’re ever going to get to see some of my world, you should be grateful I’m even bringing you along at all, after what you did. My family wouldn’t hesitate to kill you if they ever found out, and the fact that I’m trusting you enough to be around my nieces and nephews now that you know the truth, is me offering you a chance. Not only that, we both know a shit storm’s brewing and the outcome could be fatal, this may be the only chance you have to spend Christmas with your sons. When was the last time you did that?”

“When we were kids, _sometimes_ ,” Sam muttered bitterly.

Dean remained silent, not sure how to feel about his father joining them for Christmas. Once he might’ve liked it, before he’d harmed Hermione, but now, he didn’t trust him and he wasn’t sure he ever would when she was nearby. The comfort he took was that he knew Hermione was smart, she had a good head on her shoulders and she wouldn’t do anything if she thought it dangerous to her, him or Sam, and most importantly, her family and the kids. He knew Hermione, and he wouldn’t be surprised if she confiscated all of his weapons before allowing him anywhere near her family.

“Fine,” he sighed in defeat.

“It’s Christmas, cheer up. If I see any threatening behaviour, suspicious thinking or unpleasant glances aimed at any of my family, all of who have magic, I won’t hesitate to tell them you shot me and I’m certain you won’t survive what they’d do to you. No bad language around the children, keep any gruesome details of your hunting to yourself, and be polite. Ronald, my ex-boyfriend, he’s an arsehole and if he says something, either I or Harry will handle it. Some of the children have also started showing signs of magic, so there’s likely to be a few magical outbursts. Stay calm and don’t react, it’s nothing serious and can easily be rectified no matter what it is. And now that’s out of the way, Dean and I are going Christmas shopping. If you want to come with us, that’s fine, otherwise, keep yourselves busy.”

“Should you really be going out?” Sam frowned, his eyes darting between her stomach and face.

“I’m fine, it’s healing a lot quicker than I thought it would and by tomorrow, they shouldn’t be a mark in sight. Stop being such a mother hen.”

~000~000~000~

**Two days later...**

It was Christmas day.

They’d gotten into London early the previous day so they would have the chance to rest up before heading out to spend Christmas with Hermione’s family. Hermione’s friend had managed to get them reservations at one of the best hotels in the city and whilst Dean had thought the previous hotels had been fancy, they didn’t hold a candle to the one they were currently staying in. He’d gotten a few stares when he’d stepped into the building with his boots, jeans and jacket, from both the other guests and the staff. Hermione’d just turned to him and said, “You’re too handsome for your own good, look, you’ve got everyone bloody staring,” before striding forward to check-in. He still didn’t know how she’d snuck the cats in.

The moment they’d landed in a concealed alleyway, Dean had felt the immediate temperature difference, saw his breath when he breathed out and frost on the ground. He’d regretted not taking Hermione’s advice to put on a warmer coat before they left, but he wasn’t going to admit that.

And heading to their rooms, three so they had one each, he and Hermione had ordered room service and spent the night relaxing, watching a few Christmas movies on TV before falling asleep.

The next morning, Hermione had made sure to wake both his father and Sam up, gave them an hour warning before she double-checked she’d had everything she needed stashed away in her magical purse. When it was time to leave, they’d met in the corridor and followed her out of the hotel, and with the cats securely locked in a magic carry case, she’d apparated them away.

That was how he found himself stood in a snow-covered field, freezing his ass off as he and Sam stared up at the strangely shaped tower-house building and his father was doubled over, fighting off the urge to throw up.

“How’s that possible?” Sam asked in wonder, seeing the many windows jutting out, each decorated with tinsel and magically lit lights and the smoke pouring from the chimney.

“Magic,” Hermione answered, smiling fondly. “I spent most of my childhood here. It was damaged during the war but we were able to fix it up once it was over. Everyone will already be here, they usually stay over Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. There wouldn’t have been room for all four of us, which is why we’re staying in a hotel, but don’t expect to make it back tonight. Once the fire whiskey starts flowing, I won’t be in any fit state to get us back, we’ll have to sleep on the couches and floor, but it’s all good fun, I promise. Sammy, best let them out, Crooks has missed the kids and Domino and Sadie need a chance to get used to their surroundings, there’s going to be house a full here today.”

Sam set the cat carrier on the ground and opened it, Crookshanks darting out of it and Domino and Sadie were a little slower to follow but once they did, Hermione shrunk the empty carrier down and slipped it into her magical purse, Dean seeing from the corner of his eye his father watching her carefully.

“Before we head in, weapons, all of them, all of you.”

“What?” His father questioned in surprise.

“You heard me, weapons, give them to me. You can have them back when we leave, but not only will my family be uncomfortable should they see you with them, not only is it dangerous with the children being present, but I don’t trust you not to pull a gun should something happen.”

“Dad, just give her them,” Dean grumbled, removing his handguns, the silver knife and the pocket knives and slipping them into Hermione’s bag and Sam did the same.

Hermione and his father had a staring match; she won and he reluctantly gave up his weapons, complaining the entire time.

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes. “Let’s go, they probably already know we’re here now. Brace yourselves for a truly magical Christmas, and I promise, there’s nothing like it.”

She slipped her hand into Dean’s and hooked her arm through Sam’s before tugging them towards the house, his father following behind them. Before the door was even opened the noise of chatter and laughing and singing could be heard, and the smell of cooking food and chocolate hit their noses. It was already a little overwhelming and they hadn’t even stepped inside.

When Hermione pushed the door open, warmth enveloped them and they followed after her, removing their coats and hanging them up on the rack with the many others and Hermione vanished the snow from their shoes.

Dean’s attention darted between his surroundings and watching for his father’s reaction, taking in the photographs that filled the walls, the Christmas decorations, the _fairies_.

“Wait? Are they fairies?” Sam asked in surprise.

Hermione’s mouth tugged into a smile. “Yes, they’re fairy lights.”

“I’ve seen it all now,” his father said from behind them.

“You really haven’t,” Hermione replied, a smirk tugging at her mouth as she peered at him over her shoulder.

She led them down a corridor and into a living room that was far too small for the amount of people it held, but Dean otherwise would’ve described it as being warm and comfortable with the warn furniture, the large lit fireplace, the tree in the corner surrounded by presents and the decorations covering almost every surface.

The adults each held a steaming mug whilst they were squished onto chairs and couches whilst the children were dotted about the floor, the younger ones held by the parents and the toddlers and older kids were peering at the gifts under the tree. Some of them Dean recognised, some of them he didn’t.

“Dad, when can we open our presents?” One of the children asked, and it was soon chorused by the rest of them.

“We’re just waiting for someone,” one of Hermione’s brother’s said, he didn’t recognise him.

“Who?” The child frowned.

Hermione took a step forward and called out, “Me!” Her arms opened and ready for the attack of hugs she was about to receive.

“Aunt ‘Mione!”

Dean shared an amused glance with Sam when Hermione was tackled onto the ground by half a dozen children, her laughter drowned out by that of her siblings.

Dean didn’t have to wait long as he was soon assaulted by both James and Albus, the two children he knew the best and he happily accepted their hugs and words of excitement that he’d come to spend Christmas with them before they moved to Sam. When they did so, Dean spied his father cautiously scanning those in the room, both adults and children. Dean didn’t know what he was looking for, they all looked like perfectly normal human beings, and maybe that was the problem. Since discovering the magic of the trueborns, his father had come to realise any person he passed in the street could be a witch or wizard and he’d never know because there was no physical difference between them.

“Papa Jon!” James greeted, hugging his father around the waist and Albus latched onto his leg.

“Hello, boys,” his father cleared his throat and patted them both on the head awkwardly, something Sam found amusing.

“I’m so glad you could make it,”

Dean turned his eyes away from his father and to the older redheaded woman approaching them, an apron tied around her waist, her cheeks flushed and a hand cloth held in her grasp, before she dropped it onto a small side table as she crossed the room.

“You know I could never miss Christmas as the Burrow,” Hermione smiled, happily accepting the woman’s bear hug, relaxing into it and releasing a sigh.

“Dean, Samuel, it’s lovely to see you again, I’m happy you decided to join us this year,” the redhead smiled, pulling back from Hermione and pulling both him and Sam into a hug, no longer being surprised by the action and he found himself relaxing into it this time, being more comfortable than he’d been last time.

“Thank you for inviting us,” Sam replied politely.

“Dear, you’re welcome here anytime,” she smiled, patting his cheek affectionately before her eyes darted over them, her lips pursing and her brow furrowing. “Goodness, you’re too skinny, you really must eat more. Not to worry, we’ll soon put some meat on your bones,” she assured them, sniggers and chuckles sounding from the children and adults behind them. “And who’s this fellow?”

“Our dad, Jon,” Dean answered.

“Oh, well it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Molly, Hermione’s mother if you will, Arthur, my husband, has just popped upstairs and will be down in a moment. You’ve raised two wonderful young men,” she smiled.

Dean’s mouth tugged into a smirk and Sam bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing when the older woman pulled him into a hug, his father stiffening and his eyes widening.

“Thank you, you have a... Unique home,” he commented once he’d broken free of her.

“It’s not much but it’s home,” she smiled. “Let’s get you settled and introduced to the rest of the family and we can finally open the presents.”

Hermione took his hand in hers and once more slipped her arm through Sam’s, tugging them further into the room and towards the gathered crowd. As the introductions began, Dean didn’t know when but the cats had made an appearance, Crookshanks lapping up the attention of the children, Domino hiding behind Sam and Sadie stood by his feet, rubbing her face against his jean-clad leg, offering comfort. He needed it.

When the introductions were over, Hermione conjured up a couple of chairs for Sam and his father and she squeezed into an armchair with him. Mugs of hot peppermint tea were pressed into their hands by Molly and though he wasn’t much of a lover of tea, preferring coffee, he quietly sipped at the hot liquid, partaking in their Christmas tradition as they watched the children open their gifts.

Before he knew it, stuffed toys had been charmed and were acting out scenes for the laughing children, children were hovering off the ground on training brooms and fake snow exploded from little boxes above them, disappearing before it landed on their heads, and with the children occupied, it came to the turn of the adults to exchange gifts.

Dean had been surprised to receive a dark green knitted sweater with his initial on, matching the many others that each member of Hermione’s family sported, including Hermione herself, hers being a plum colour, and Sam received one, too, his dark blue. Dean knew he’d never wear it but it was the thought that counted. It meant Molly Weasley had accepted him and his brother as part of the family, something that Dean felt quite touched by. Despite having no intention of wearing the sweater, after a narrowed-eyed look from Hermione and seeing Sam wearing his after the encouragement of the children, Dean sighed and slipped it on over his t-shirt, the wool surprisingly soft. This would be the only time he’d wear and certainly never in public.

He wasn’t entirely sure what Hermione had gifted his father, he hadn’t allowed anyone to see and he’d kept the lid on the box when peering at the contents. But it was clear that whatever it was, it’d surprised him. Sam, she’d gifted him a stack of books. Dean hadn’t bothered to look at the titles, it holding no interest to him but his brother had been happy.

Dean had been nervous when she’d opened his gifts to her and he’d only calmed once a smile had settled on her face and she’d hugged him tightly. He’d purchased her a simple silver tennis bracelet, something she’d put on immediately after opening it, and he’d also gotten her a cropped leather jacket. She’d loved them both.

Her gift to him had been a new watch but he’d learned she’d spent weeks working her magic on it, being careful not to damage the mechanism inside and as a result, it was not only made of silver, it not only told the date, time and held a compass, it not only had the feature of setting an alarm, it was not only water-proof and resistant, it was not only bomb _and_ bulletproof, but it held a secret compartment he’d be able to hide a shrunken down weapon inside in cases of emergency. It wasn’t the gift itself, but the thought, time and effort she’d put into, that made him love it so much and he’d been quick to discard his current watch and replace it with the new one.

“Right then, let’s get outside and have some fun, it’s snowing!” George Weasley called. “The last one there’s a rotten dragon’s egg!”

There was a flurry of movement as the children darted after him, following him outside whilst their mothers shouted after them to put on their shoes, coats, hats and scarves, soon following after them when they hadn’t listened and coats and shoes levitated through the house and outside.

“Let’s join them, there’s always an epic snowball fight and I like to observe before I choose my side,” Hermione grinned, dragging him up from his seat and outside, Sam and his father following.

The women had soon magicked and wrestled coats and the like onto the kids and disappeared into the kitchen to help with the preparation of dinner and make some hot chocolate, the men had joined the children, some having a snowball fight and others making snowmen, and that included Sam, whilst he, Hermione and his father observed from the porch. The cats had remained inside, Dean seeing they’d curled up on a window ledge and appeared to be watching the children.

Ginny soon sidled up beside him, Lilly cradled in her arms and she pulled him and Hermione into conversation until she was hit in the face by a snowball that appeared from nowhere.

“George! That almost hit Lily, you bloody prat!” She shrieked, quickly shuffling Lily into his arms and she pulled her wand, storming down the steps of the porch and over to George who had turned and ran away from her, ducking behind one of his nieces for protection.

Snorting as the siblings squabbled and threatened one another, which was soon followed by an attack of Ginny lobbing snowballs relentlessly, Dean’s eyes shifted down to Lily in his arms.

Had it really only been three weeks since he’d last seen her? He would swear she’d grown so much in such a little time. She was dressed in a white winter coat, a red hat on her head, red mittens on her hands, red tights keeping her legs warm and white snow boots protecting her tiny feet from the cold. He knew she wearing a dress printed with snowflakes beneath her coat and as she stared up at him with her green eyes, she looked adorable. The little lady had stolen his heart the moment he’d held her as a newborn. Being with Hermione meant being a part of her huge-ass family, but he was surprisingly okay with that. Growing up, it had only been him, Sam and their dad, as an adult, he now had something he’d always wanted. A proper family. And it was all because of Hermione.

“So, enjoying yourself so far?” Hermione’s voice flittered to his ears and he tore his eyes from Lily, looking to her.

“It was a little strange at first, but yeah, it hasn’t been too bad,” he answered.

“Wait for dinner, you’ll never want to leave,” she replied. “Crap! Duck!”

Dean wasted no time in quickly squatting down with Hermione doing the same beside him, a parade of snowballs hitting the wall of the house behind them, George’s and Charlie’s loud laughter mixing with the children’s.

“That’s it!” Hermione called, rising to her full height, pulling her wand from her pocket and marching forward, snowballs magically forming as she flicked her wand and they went sailing through the air, hitting the children with far less force than it did her brothers.

They soon retaliated and before Dean knew it, a war had broken out between everyone, the women returned from the kitchen and had soon joined in with the fun. Dean couldn’t stop his smile or laughter when Hermione was tackled by the older children, sprawling on the ground in the snow before they grabbed a handful of snow and stuffed it down her back, her shrieks sounding loudly.

This was part of his life now. It’d only been a few hours and it was already the best Christmas he’d ever had and he looking forward to many more.

“You love her, don’t you?”

Dean’s gaze moved to his father as he stepped beside him, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his focus seemingly on the snowball fight.

“She wants me to forgive you,” Dean replied, gliding over his words and turning his attention back to Lily when she made a crying sound and he gently rocked her until she settled. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t trust you around her and I’m never going to leave her alone if you’re nearby. If you want my forgiveness, you’re going to have to earn it.”

“It seems we’ve missed all the fun,” Arthur Weasley said from behind him, as he stepped out of the house, smiling wildly at the sight of his children and grandchildren playing in the snow. “I’m afraid to break it up,” he said almost sadly before shaking his head. “Dinner’s ready!” He called louder.

Dean had to move aside as he was almost trampled by the stampede of adults and children that rushed to the house, and he blinked slowly in surprise.

“Weasleys, they love their food,” Hermione laughed as she approached them, brushing snow from her hair. “Come on, we better get in there before they eat it all.”

~000~000~000~

As Dean sat in an armchair by the fire, a glass of fire whiskey in hand and Hermione curled up in his lap, he couldn’t remember a time he’d felt happier.

After the children had been put to bed, the alcohol flowed freely and whilst Hermione’s siblings chatted, drank and played games, his father had been pulled into an awkward-looking conversation with Arthur, Sam was playing a game of magical chess with Harry and the women relaxed and spoke amongst each other, he relaxed by the fire after a long day.

“So, Winchester, Christmas at the Burrow next year?” Hermione said quietly, sounding sleepy.

“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed.

Hermione smiled up at him before she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You promise to take care of me when George hides my Hangover Potion and I’m a hungover monster?”

He snorted at her. “I thought ahead, I slipped one of your potions into my jacket pocket before leaving the hotel. He won’t expect me to have brought one, too.”

She blinked slowly before a smile tugged at her face.

“You, Mr. Winchester, are a genius,” she praised, snuggling into him further and a sigh leaving her when he chuckled and turned his head to press a kiss to her forehead.

Yes, Christmas with her family would be done every year. He’d make sure of it.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for violence/ mentions of domestic abuse.
> 
> Page count: 22

**One week later...**

"Oh look, Honey, this place has a pool," Hermione said joyfully, all but skipping her way towards their motel room. "And one we definitely _won't_ be using."

Dean snorted and shared an amused glance with Sam who rolled his eyes, readjusting his grip on his duffle bag before he slipped his other hand into his pocket.

"But, if this place has a pool, there's a good chance it's a little more upscale than we're used to, so there's a possibility of us not walking into a room with blood-stained carpets, bedbugs or the lingering scent of vomit."

"She's not going to let that go, is she?" Sam asked amusedly.

"No, I don't think so," he replied.

"I heard that!" Hermione called, pausing in her steps to send them an annoyed glance over her shoulder before she continued walking, leading the way.

"It was one time, Baby," Dean said. "How was I to know there'd been a murder thirty years ago, neither of us was even born then."

"Looking into things like that is what we do. I don't care that a murder took place in the motel, I care that it happened in our room, because, why wouldn't it? We deal with this stuff for a living, the last thing I want is to wake up in the middle of the night to see a vengeful spirit hovering over me with a knife in hand, especially when it's my weekend off."

Dean rolled his eyes but didn't comment, watching as Hermione stopped before a red door, pulled the key card out of her pocket and punched it into the slot, twisting the handle but not opening the door. He shared a glance with Sam before his eyes darted back to Hermione, seeing her slotting the key card back into her pocket before she crossed her fingers and screwed her eyes shut.

"Please be murder-free, please be murder-free," she chanted before she poked her tongue out her mouth and then pushed the door open with a shove of her hip. Comically, she peeked open one eye and poked her head inside. "Oh God, thank you!" She cried, her posture relaxing before she darted inside. "We have an oven. A pool, a key card and an oven? We are _never_ leaving!"

Dean snorted and shook his head.

"She's _your_ girlfriend," Sam shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah," he grinned. "And if you'll excuse me, I'm going to sweet-talk her out of her clothes."

Sam rolled his eyes before shoving him towards his motel room and then he used the key card to access his own room before stepping inside. Snorting to himself, Dean stepped inside and closed the door behind him, seeing Sadie and Crookshanks already being curled up on the bed and Hermione with an array of ingredients set up on the table.

"What're you making?" He asked her.

"I've some veg than needs using before it goes out of date and the spells are starting to wear off. So, I'm thinking sausage casserole with boiled potatoes and for dessert, apple crumble and custard, something quick and simple."

"Sounds good," he replied, coming up behind her, his arms folding around her stomach as he rested his chin on her shoulder, watching as a spell chopped the vegetables and she peeled the potatoes with a knife.

It still amazed him how comforting he found this. The life they lived was far from normal but Hermione still found a way to make it domesticated. They were never in the same place for more than a week or two depending on the difficulty of the case, they were always on the road and they lived a life of danger. And yet, he had a stable and happy relationship, they had pets and Hermione took every opportunity she had to make a home-cooked meal. Not to mention, she included him and his family in her family's traditions, their Christmas getaway had been one of the best experiences of his life; there'd been no danger or death or threats, only laughter and happiness and children and pets demanding his attention every five minutes.

Unfortunately for Hermione, George _had_ found the Hangover Potion he'd hidden in his pocket, as well as the extra one he'd slipped into Sam's pocket, too, and Hermione had woken the day after Christmas with a monstrous hangover that was felt by _everyone_. Not only because she was terrifying in her hungover state, but because they'd been hungover themselves. It seemed it was only the Winchesters and George who had escaped such a fate, the former three being careful with how much alcohol they consumed and the latter having taken his own potion.

For the majority of the day, whilst the adults were nursing a hangover, the Winchesters and George had been tasked with taking care of their other halves as well as the children, something Dean and Sam had found hilarious when their father was so clearly uncomfortable around the magical children.

It wasn't until later that night after Hermione appeared to have gotten over the majority of her hangover when she was finally able-bodied enough to apparate them back to their hotel, the witch soon climbing into bed and burying herself beneath the covers until the next morning. It was obvious she was mildly impressed that she hadn't scared him away with her temper but he wouldn't admit that she was actually quite frightening and he'd been tempted to run and hide with the children but he'd soon squashed it down and did his best to be the doting boyfriend his terrifyingly hungover girlfriend needed.

The rest of their time in London had been split between spending time with Hermione's family at the Burrow and wandering the tourist sites in Muggle London before returning to the States New Years Eve, quickly getting back to business the following day, which is how they found themselves in Burley, Idaho.

"You alright?"

"Hmmm, fine, why?" He muttered.

She shrugged her shoulder, the one he wasn't using as a chinrest. "You just seem quieter than usual, and if I'm honest, you've been like this for days."

"I'm just hoping that all of this will be over soon. It's exhausting having to be the mediator all the time."

"I get it," she nodded, "Whenever Harry and Ron had a falling out I was always stuck in the middle."

"It's not just _him_ , it's everything. It's been twenty-two years, this demon is the reason my dad's so fucked in the head, why we had the childhood we did and why we lead the life we do. It didn't just take my mom, it took our lives."

"If you can get me your dad's research, I'll go through it with Sam and see if we can find anything he missed."

"He's adamant you won't find anything."

"That's 'cause he's an arsehole and he doesn't want to be proven wrong by me, a _witch_. It's killing him that you're with me, that something so big was kept from him and that he doesn't know everything there possibly is to know about the other worlds out there. His pride's wounded, he'll get over it eventually."

"He better or he'll find himself staring down the barrel of my gun."

She snorted. "Where is your dad, anyway? When I came back from the check-in desk both he and the car were gone."

"He said he wanted to do a bit of digging into the case."

"We've only just got here and it's already late evening," she pointed out. "Everywhere but food establishments will be closed."

"Take it up with him, not me," he shrugged.

"I'd rather not, I'll likely hex him."

"I don't mind."

She snorted. "Of course you don't," she shook her head. "Well, I'm going to hop in the shower, would you mind putting the veg into the pot on the stove on medium heat?"

"Or I could join you," he suggested.

She laughed. "You could," she agreed, "But only if you put the veg in the pot for me." She looked at him over her shoulder and reached up, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she pulled herself free of his hold, banished the potato peelings and then headed for the bathroom.

~000~000~000~

"Bitch!"

"Arsehole!"

"Demon!"

"Wanker!"

"Witch!"

"That's not an insult, moron!"

"Idiot!"

"Prat!"

"Enough!" Dean called, sending a glare over his shoulder to his father before turning his eyes back to the road. "I'm tired of you fighting all the time, stop it! We have other things to worry about other than your dislike of each other. I swear, if either one of you makes another comment or sly dig at the other, I'll throw you both out the car and leave you to fend for yourselves."

"Damn," Sam muttered in surprise, shaking his head and glancing at Dean as though he didn't even know who he was.

"She started it," his father said childishly.

"I don't care who started it, I'm ending it!" Dean griped, pinning his father with an annoyed glare, their eyes locking in the rear-view mirror.

When his father looked over to stare out of the window, Dean held his out hand out to Hermione expectantly, the witch subtly high-fiving him as she grinned at him and Dean allowed his mouth to twitch into a smirk as he brought his hand back to the steering wheel, hearing Sam cover his laughter with a cough.

So that might've been for show; Dean was _always_ on Hermione's side but he couldn't make it appear that way.

~000~000~000~

**Two days later...**

"HERMIONE!" Dean called out in worry, his eyes scanning his expansive surroundings in search of her.

They'd been dealing with a violent spirit, one they'd tracked to an abounded lake house in the middle of nowhere, one that had claimed two dozen lives in only eight years, all the deaths seemingly unconnected as the causes were more often than not different, but it was Hermione and Sam who'd put their giant brains together and discovered that they weren't seemingly random after all. Each victim had been in a relationship (some known and some not) with an African-America partner. Not only were they dealing with a violent spirit, but a racist one, too. Fabulous.

"Dean?" Sam asked in confusion.

Dean spun around to see Sam approaching, looking a little worse for wear but otherwise fine as he brushed his hair out of his face and slipped his gun back into the waistband of his jeans. Despite there only being one spirit, it had taken all four of them to destroy it and it hadn't been easy.

"I can't find Hermione," he said, his panic evident as Sam darted his own gaze around them before landing on their father, approaching them.

"Where's Hermione?"

His father rolled his eyes. "I haven't done anything to her," he held his hands up in surrender. "I haven't seen her since she was thrown out the window. Never seen a woman so mad," he said amusedly.

"What window?" Dean asked quickly.

"The one facing the lake," he shrugged.

"Fuck!" Dean cursed, darting off towards the lake so quickly he almost tripped over his own feet and hearing Sam hot on his tail.

He'd already thrown his leather jacket to the ground by the time he'd reached the bank of the lake and he dived in, the freezing January water chilling him to bone but he refused to allow it to distract him. As he came up for air, he heard a splash before Sam's head surfaced a little ways from him.

"I'll take the right," he called over before he took a deep inhale and then disappeared beneath the water.

Dean was quick to follow his example, searching for Hermione the best he could but seeing nothing other than darkness and when his lungs burned he had to resurface, Sam doing so after him and being further away than he had been before.

"I can't see her, it's too dark!" Sam called. "But I've found her wand!" He held the wooden stick above his head as proof.

Dean's panic only doubled. Not only could Hermione not swim, she was without her wand to help her survive for as long as possible and she'd been thrown through a window, if she'd banged her head, she could be unconscious. He had to find her.

"Dad! Hermione can't swim!" Sam yelled but Dean didn't wait for a response as he dived back underwater, swimming a little further down towards the lake bed in case she'd gotten caught in any of the junk or debris and was struggling to free herself. But he couldn't find her.

He stayed under the water for as long as he possibly could, until his lungs burned, his eyes stung and his head went a little fuzzy before he swam to the surface, gasping for air and looking around him, his eyes widening as he saw Sam and his father both soaked from head to toe, kneeling down on the bank with his father performing CPR on the third figure that lay lifeless on the cold ground.

He barely registered swimming to the bank, climbing from the water and kneeling by Hermione's head, her skin almost seemed to have a blue hue to it, her hair matted with dirt and the only movement of her chest being the CPR compressions. His hands ground into the cold dirt beneath him, barely registering the wind worsening the shivers wracking his body or the tears blurring his sight, unsure if it were from fear, panic, anger or the sting from the lake water.

"Hermione, please... Baby... Don't leave me..." He begged, nausea swarming his stomach, his heart pounding in his chest and thumping in his ears.

He couldn't take his eyes from her even when his father paused with the compressions to tilt her head back and pinch her nose, administering two breaths of air before restarting the compressions, counting each compression with a mumble.

"No...No... Baby..."

He felt his whole world crashing down around him, the pain in his chest magnifying with each second that passed. She'd promised him she wouldn't leave him. She'd promised! His vision swam and he felt himself swaying and he would've hit the ground if it weren't for Sam automatically reaching out to steady him, but he couldn't take his eyes from her.

"I can't lose her... It'll kill me... Please..."

His father paused the compressions once more, giving two rescue breaths before continuing. Dean could see his father visibly tiring, having no idea how long he'd actually been performing CPR given he'd resurfaced after he'd started.

It'd been too long. He felt it in his gut. If they didn't get her back soon she'd be officially dead or brain dead, either way, he'd lost her. He briefly noted Sam shifting, preparing to take over from his tiring father and then suddenly, it happened.

Hermione's body gave a sudden lurched forward, rolling onto her side as she coughed and gasped, water spluttering from her mouth and coating the floor. He'd barely allowed her to catch her breath when he released a cry of relief and pulled her into his arms, holding her against him and off the cold ground, her body shaking in his hold as he buried his face in her hair.

"Fuck, you scared the shit out of me," he breathed against her skin, his nose skimming her forehead. "I swear to God himself, I'm teaching you how to swim, no arguments."

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Dean pulled his face back from Hermione and looked to Sam, his expression one of relief, and then he turned his eyes to his father, clenching his jaw for a moment before releasing a sigh.

"That's how you earn my forgiveness."

His father's eyes widened in surprise and then without saying anything further, he shifted Hermione in his hold before rising to his feet and walking off, leaving behind the lake and woods as he headed for the Impala.

~000~000~000~

**Three days later...**

"Bobby, you're sure?"

"I wouldn't be calling if I wasn't," Bobby replied gruffly. "Are ya gonna do something about it?"

"Yeah," he replied, lifting his wrist and glancing down at his watch. "Hermione'll be asleep for a few more hours, probably longer, just 'cause the Sleeping Potion's wore off doesn't mean she'll wake right away. It should give me enough time to do what I need to do."

"Just be careful," Bobby warned. "How's my girl doing?"

"Better," Dean answered, standing from the table and walking over to the bed, reaching out to push her wild hair away from her face, feeling her temperature being a little higher than normal but decided not to worry. Not only was she sleeping under a quilt and throw cover, she was surrounded by three sleeping balls of fur, too. She was bound to be warm. "It's been a few days and she's finally all healed up, it's just the nightmares we're dealing with at the moment. We're planning on getting back on the road either tomorrow or the day after, I just want her to get some rest. We need her on top form."

"I owe your dad a beer," Bobby replied. "You're good for her, ya know?"

"What?" He frowned in confusion, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and petting Sadie on the head when she shifted in her sleep, meowing quietly as she pushed her head against his palm affectionately.

"Missy, you're good for her. You're forgetting, I've known her longer than you. I saw what she was like when she left England and when she came by for a visit, and though it was clear she was getting better, it wasn't until she met you that she was happy. Something I know she hadn't been in a long time."

"Well, the feeling's mutual, Bobby," Dean confessed. "Meeting her's the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I honestly don't know what I would've done if I'd lost her."

Bobby snorted. "She's turned you soft."

"She has not!" Dean protested.

Bobby gruff laugh sounded on the other end. "She has and don't even try to deny it. Your dad told me about the pink face masks and manicures."

Dean scowled. "Don't be a hypocrite; Hermione's told me you like tea tree and mint mask, it's your favourite."

"I'm gonna kill her," Bobby muttered darkly.

Dean's mouth tugged into a smug smirk. "Yeah, she tells me _everything_. I can't believe you turned down a Christmas dinner in favour of leftover takeout, beer and _The_ _X-Files._ "

"Call me crazy for wanting a quiet Christmas without snot-nose rugrats destroying my peace and quiet. And there's nothing wrong with leftover takeout and watching _The X-Files_ , it's a classic. Besides, you never know, there could be some truth behind it all."

"If you say so," Dean replied amusedly. "And I'll have you know, the kids in Hermione's family aren't snot-nose rugrats, they're fire-starting witchlings."

"'Cause that's so much better," Bobby deadpanned.

Dean snorted. "I don't know, Bobby, I'd bet that the moment you set eyes on the Little Lady known as Lily Potter, your old, cold heart would melt."

"Who're ya calling old!?" Bobby said in outrage. Dean bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. "I swear, the next time I see you, you'd better be wearing a bullet-proof vest 'cause you're gonna need it."

"I'll see if Hermione can get her hands on one, she's frighteningly resourceful," Dean rolled his eyes before looking down at his sleeping witch fondly. "Anyway, Hermione took your refusal to join us for Christmas as a one time only deal and she has every intention of forcing you to join us next year."

"I'd like to see her try," Bobby scoffed.

"So would I," Dean agreed, knowing it would be hilarious for anyone who was observing; their arguments always were.

"I better go, _Ghost Whisper_ 's about to start, I'll send you everything I have."

As Bobby ended the call, Dean shook his head and laughed at the older hunter before his eyes fell back to his sleeping witch.

She'd barely left the bed for three days, if only to use the bathroom and grab a quick shower. After she'd been resuscitated and he'd taken her back to the Impala, he sat with her in the backseat, her body violently shaking against him as Sam made the thankfully not too long drive back to the motel and Dean had been quick to set her down on the bed, cover her in blankets and then draw her a bath, not caring for his own shivers or wet clothing.

After her bath, he'd helped her to dress before putting her straight to bed, only taking a quick shower and changing into dry clothing after she'd begged him to. His father and Sam made an appearance not long after, both having showered and dressed in clean, dry clothing, too, before Sam set to work looking over Hermione's injuries and she'd had more than they'd previously realised.

She had a cut on her forearm from a knife and several on her body from shattered glass after being thrown through a window, and after Hermione had been strong enough to cast magic, she'd discovered she had several broken ribs from the CPR and a sprained ankle, too, not to mention, she'd started sneezing and hadn't been able to stop. Sam tended to the injuries the best he could under Hermione's tutelage, her ribs taking almost two days to completely heal but the rest of her injuries had vanished within a few hours. It was the nightmares Dean hated.

Hermione needed a lot of sleep given what she'd been through; she'd technically died and that was something that needed processing. He knew she had a fear of water and she'd told him what'd happened to her sleeping pattern when she was a teenager after the tournament she'd been a part of, but this was so much worse. She'd _died_. And the nightmares were horrific, whenever she closed her eyes she saw it all play out before her, over and over again on a loop. Dean did his best to comfort her and in the end, she'd resorted to taking Sleeping Potions, not wishing to disrupt his sleep or be a burden no matter how many times Dean told her she wasn't.

In time he knew it would all be a thing of the past and she'd get better and he had every intention of teaching her to swim no matter her fear or her protests. He couldn't go through that again. Not when it could be easily rectified.

The text tone on his phone sounded and he briefly read the message, seeing that Bobby had sent him the information he needed. Now he just had to wait for Sam and his father to return so he could leave. Whilst he waited, he busied himself with cleaning his handguns and knives before returning them to their proper place of hiding, which is when they returned.

He'd barely let them into the room before he took the keys from Sam, his younger brother blinking slowly at the fast action.

"Where are you off to?" He asked, seeing him wearing his leather jacket and his purposeful positioning by the door.

"There's something I gotta do, keep an eye on Hermione for me. I'll be back in a few hours but if anything happens, call me and I'll be back as soon as I can."

Dean left out the room and closed the door behind, Sam's words being halted before he'd even managed to speak them. He headed straight for the Impala and climbed into the driver's side, taking a quick glance at the fuel gauge and deciding it was probably best he filled the tank before he went anywhere.

Once he'd reached his first destination and he'd refuelled and grabbed a few snacks for the journey, he double-checked the address Bobby had sent him before hitting the road, hoping it wouldn't be too long a drive.

~000~000~000~

He'd been parked on the side of the street for almost fifteen minutes, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly and his gaze staring at the rundown one-story house across the street.

He knew what, or more specifically, _who_ , was inside and he could feel his anger building. He had to be careful, he knew that but that was difficult to remember as images of Hermione being shoved against a wall in front of James and having a vase thrown at her head flashed through his mind.

Taking a breath and applying the calming techniques Hermione had taught him to aid with PTSD, (which he'd discovered help with anger) he felt himself calming and now that he had better control of himself, he climbed out of the Impala, locked it behind him and stuffed his keys in the pocket of his leather jacket as he purposely crossed to the house, lifting his hand and knocking on the wooden door.

He'd counted to twenty by the time he heard footfalls approaching and the door opened, only he hadn't been expecting the person on the other side.

A woman. A young woman who looked to be in her early-twenties. Her hair was a mousy blonde, her eyes a dark shade of blue, her nose small and her mouth small with thin lips. But it wasn't her age or appearance that had him doing a double-take. No, it was the right black eye, the bruises he could see peeking out beneath the high-neck sweater, the finger-shaped bruises on her forearms where her sleeves were pulled up to her elbows and most alarmingly, the large and evident bump of her stomach. She was pregnant. He remembered what Ginny Weasley had looked like when they'd gone to London for the first time to see Rose after she'd been born, she'd been six months pregnant and if Dean had to guess, he'd say the woman before him was around the same, maybe a little further along.

"Can I help you?" She asked quietly, deliberately avoiding eye contact as her gaze darted over his shoulder, down the street and then down to the ground.

The anger he'd carefully restrained began to rattle and build as he watched her nervous mannerisms. Had Hermione lied to him? Had she downplayed the abuse she'd suffered to placate him? He had a feeling that she had. Looking at the woman before him, he _knew_ she had.

"Yeah, I'm looking for a Michael Ashton Damon, I was told I could find him here," he replied, relaxing his own body and offering her his most charming smile, glad to see that she didn't seem as nervous as she darted a glance to him.

Dean was amazed it had taken Bobby so long to find him. He had changed his name as they'd expected but he'd been stupid and had only changed the combination. He'd gone from Damon Michael Ashton to Michael Ashton Damon, but Harry's reveal of his middle name had been a big help, narrowing down the suspect pool to only one possible candidate and they'd been right. He hadn't just left Manning, he'd moved to an entirely different State and it was just his luck that they'd taken a case only a few hours away. It was almost as if it had been fated.

"He's... Erm... He's not here. He's at work..." She replied quietly, shifting on her feet.

"That's fine, I don't mind waiting, you mind if I come in?"

He didn't wait for a reply as he carefully breezed past her and into the house, being mindful not to touch her. He took in his surroundings; it was clean but in a messy organized kind of way with the magazines piled on the coffee table, DVD's stacked high by the TV and odd trinkets scattered about. The couch didn't look all that clean and he decided to forgo sitting on it and inside headed into the kitchen, taking a seat at the cluttered small, round kitchen table, keeping his hands in his pockets so he didn't touch anything.

"Can I get your something to drink?" The young woman asked.

"No, I'm good, thanks," he replied.

She nodded slowly and went over to the sink, sticking her hands in the soapy water as she washed the last of the dishes and put them to dry. He must've interrupted her, he realised. Once she'd done that, she checked on whatever was cooking in the oven before she turned to face him, pulling at her sweater anxiously.

"So, Erm... How do you know Michael?" She asked, shifting her hair behind her ear and then tugging on her sweater once more.

He eyed her like she was an animal that had been backed into a corner and was preparing to make a run for it.

"I don't personally, we have a mutual friend, one I care for very much," he replied.

"Oh... Well..." She trailed off, her eyes darting about the kitchen and avoiding his gaze.

"What's your name?"

She looked startled before answering, "Becky,"

"Becky, he hurts you, doesn't he?"

"What! No, of course he doesn't," she denied, shaking her head vehemently. "I'm just clumsy, I'm always running into things," she said, her voice rising in panic.

Dean sighed. "Look, Sweetheart," he started, making sure to soften his voice when she squeaked and backed up against the countertop. "I'm not stupid, I can see the _finger_ -shaped bruises on your arms." At this, she tugged her sleeves down to her wrists to hide the marks. "That black eye, it's from a fist, not a door. I know, I've gotten in plenty of bar fights over the years. Is that baby his? Why would you stay if he hurts you?"

"He loves me, he'd never hurt us," she shook her head, her hands coming to rest against her stomach instinctively.

"We both know that's a lie. You're pregnant with his baby and he's still harming you. You're to be a mom, don't you want to protect your baby from him. If he hurts you, he'll hurt that baby, too. Just because he tells you he loves you doesn't make up for him hurting you."

"I can't leave, he'll kill us," she said brokenly, tears falling down her face. "I tried before and then I found out I was pregnant. I have nowhere else to go. He took me away from my family, my parents would never help me if they found out I'm pregnant; they don't believe in sex before marriage."

"I highly doubt that; I think they'll be more worried about their little girl having been in a toxic, abusive and manipulative relationship and they'd rather have you alive than in a body bag. If you stay, that's how this is going to end."

"I can't leave him..."

Dean sighed before standing from the table, seeing the way she flinched ever so slightly and then he dug his hand into his back jean pocket, pulling his wallet free. He didn't have a lot on him but it should be enough to get her out of this hellhole and back to her family, far away from _him_.

He was slow in his approach of her, not wishing to frighten her anymore than she already was and he halted an appropriate distance away from her before holding out the folded bills for her to take. Her eyes slowly moved between them and his face and back again.

"That's everything I have on me and though it's not a lot, it should be enough to get a cab or bus ticket back to your family."

"I can't take that," she said her head.

"Yeah, you can," he disagreed. "Take this and get yourself to safety, get yourself somewhere where you can raise that baby without worry or fear. You might never get this chance again and one day, he may go too far and they'll be no walking away from it. Now, quickly pack whatever you need, leave your phone behind and get out of here before he comes back."

She looked hesitant, conflicted but she gave a little wince and smoothed her hand over her stomach, presumably as the baby kicked and a look of hope soon surfaced.

"Thank you, I don't know how I can repay you," she said quietly, taking the folded bills from him and holding them tightly whilst he slipped his hands into his pockets and took a step back from her.

"Just get yourself out of here and take care of your baby. That's all the thanks I need. You better be quick, if he works the regular nine-to-five hours he'll be back soon."

She nodded and quickly disappeared from the kitchen, returning not even ten minutes later with a hastily packed carryon case, sneakers on her feet, a winter coat fastened and a scarf wrapped around her neck. She hesitated when she saw him sat in the kitchen and she opened her mouth to speak only to flinch when his phone rang.

Dean eyed her carefully as he pulled the ringing device from his pocket and flipped it open, putting it against his ear.

"Dean? Are you okay? Where are you?"

Dean unknowingly released a sigh of relief and his body visibly relaxed.

"I'm fine, Baby, I promise, there's nothing for you to worry about. I'm just running a few errands."

"I woke up and Sam said that you'd left hours ago but had no idea where you were going."

"I'll be back soon. How'd you sleep? Better?"

"I suppose, but the potions prevent me from dreaming and once I stop taking them, it could be a different story."

"Good, you need your rest and we'll deal with that when it comes to it."

"Dean, I've been asleep for most of the day," she argued, likely rolling her eyes.

"So a few more hours won't hurt you. You need as much rest as possible. Anyway, what d'you want for dinner?"

"I don't know, soup, maybe? At least, that's what Sam wants; he hasn't stopped talking about it since I woke up."

"Baby, I asked what _you_ wanted for dinner, not Sammy."

"I don't mind having soup," she replied, likely shrugging her shoulders. "And maybe pie for dessert?"

"Read my mind," he smiled fondly. "I'll pick it up on the way back, I'll text you when I'm on my way, it shouldn't be too long now. If you're hungry have Sammy make you a sandwich or something."

"I'm perfectly capable of making my own sandwich," she huffed.

"I never said you weren't, I just don't want you getting out of bed when you need rest."

"Whatever," she grumbled. "You're sure you're okay?" She asked, her voice softening in worry; he could imagine her biting at her lip.

"Perfectly fine, I promise."

"I know you, when you go off on your own you always get into trouble."

He snorted. "I guess it's good that I've got you to bail me out then, huh?"

"You're an idiot," she sighed.

"But I'm your idiot," he shrugged.

She laughed. "Yeah, and I wouldn't have you any other way. I'll see you soon? Please be careful."

"I will, alright, I gotta go, Baby, I'll see you soon."

He snapped the phone shut and slipped it back into his pocket, raising a questioning eyebrow at the slightly tipped head of the woman before him.

"Your girlfriend?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

"Is she sick? Pregnant?" She asked, her hand smoothing over her stomach.

"Not pregnant," he shook his head. "Something happened a few days ago but she's better now, just needs a bit of rest."

She nodded slowly and nibbled at her lip, looking hesitant to ask the next question.

"She's the mutual friend, isn't she? She's why you're here."

Dean ran a hand through his hair and then slipped it back into his pocket. "Yeah, Michael's her ex-boyfriend. When we started dating, I found out he'd harmed her and he did so in front of her nephew. But looking at you, I think she downplayed the abuse, not wanting to upset me. I've been looking for him ever since, the bastard changed his name and moved to another State, but I had help tracking him down. There's plenty of people that want to _speak_ to him about he did to her, which is why he ran."

She shifted on her feet. "How long have you been together?"

"A year in March," he shrugged.

"She's lucky to have you," she commented. "Not many people would do what you've done for her or me."

"I'm lucky to have found her," he disagreed. "And sooner or later, you'll find someone that treats you the way you deserved to be treated. Not every man is a monster."

She nodded slowly, looking as though she didn't believe him but didn't wish to argue. "What are you going to do to him?"

Dean heard a car pull up and he twisted to look out the kitchen window, seeing a cab waiting outside.

"You should go," he said, deliberately ignoring her question.

"Right," she nodded. "And thank you. If anyone tracks me down and asks what happened, I'll lie," she told him.

"I'd appreciate that," he tipped his head.

"Thank you," she cleared her throat before she left the kitchen, carryon in hand, Dean watching out the window as she climbed into the cab and it drove away.

Now he just had to wait.

~000~000~000~

Almost half an hour had passed and in that time, Dean had turned off the oven to prevent whatever was cooking from burning or catching fire, and he'd helped himself to some of the food in the fridge and made himself a coffee, taking only two sips before pouring it down the sink. Hermione's coffee was _so_ much better.

He was leaning against the counter when he checked his watch, seeing it growing close to five-thirty. He'd be back soon, he had to be. And just as that thought crossed his mind, he heard a car pulling up outside and the engine being shut off.

Dean sprang into position, hiding behind the kitchen door and his hands balling into fists as he tried to reign in his anger.

"Becky! I hope dinner's ready, I'm starving!" A voice called as they stepped into the house, the door closing loudly behind him. "Becky! Where are you?!" Footsteps approached the kitchen before he paused in the doorway. "Stupid bitch," he hissed angrily, seeing the kitchen empty of both food and the pregnant young woman. "Becky, get your fat ass out here! You know what happens when dinner's not ready!"

Dean heard his footfalls retreating from the kitchen and that's when he struck, he darted out from behind the door, reached out to grab the shorter man by the back of his dirty t-shirt and tugged him back, slamming him against the wall and pinning him in place with his arm pressed against his throat.

"Fuck!" He cursed.

Dean's eyes scanned his face, seeing dark hair and eyes, pale skin and he caught sight of a foreign symbol tattooed onto his forearm. It was definitely him.

"Who're you? What d'you want? Where's Becky?"

Dean's eyes narrowed hatefully and he took a calming breath.

"Damon Michael Ashton?" Dean questioned.

His eyes blinked slowly from the daze of being slammed against the wall and he struggled to free himself but Dean's hold was unrelenting.

"How d'you know that name?" His eyes narrowed in confusion.

"If you're going to change your name and run and hide like the piece of shit you are, I suggest doing a better job of it. When I learned about you, I knew I couldn't let it go no matter much she told me to. There's plenty of people that want to get their hands on you for what you did to her."

"Look, I ain't got a fucking clue what you're talking about," he replied.

"Hermione!" Dean growled, pushing his arm further against his throat to obstruct his breathing slightly.

"I don't know no Hermione but she sounds like a bitch."

Dean's anger swarmed him and without warning he pulled him away from the wall, shoved across the room and balled his hand into a fist, swinging and hitting him in the mouth.

"Fuck! Man! What was that for!?" He spat, blood mixed with saliva falling to the murky-grey carpet beneath their feet.

"Don't talk about her like that!" Dean snarled, slowly advancing on him and punching him in the stomach until he coughed and doubled over, falling to his knees.

"Look, I don't know no Hermione!" He protested, glaring up at Dean through watering eyes. "I don't know what she's said or who you think I am, but you've got the wrong guy!"

"No, I haven't," Dean replied coldly, punching him across the face so hard he swayed and then landed face-first on the ground. Dean crouched down beside him, pushing him onto his back and gripping his t-shirt in his hand, his other hand balled into a fist in preparation to punch him again. "I know exactly who you are. You see, I think she did lie to me but not about you. She simply told me that you shoved her into a wall and threw a vase at her head when she broke up with you, but after seeing the state of that young woman I found here, I know she severely downplayed her abuse so I wouldn't worry."

"Becky? Where is she?" He glared up at him, surprisingly remaining still with blood dripping from his nose and mouth.

"She's safe, I've made sure of that. As for what you did to Hermione..."

"I told you, I don't know no Hermione!" He shouted in his face.

"You're lying, it's not a name that's heard often and the girl's certainly one of kind, very hard to forget. But for clarification's sake, I'm talking about Hermione Granger, British, she took you to England to introduce you to her family."

Something inside his dark eyes seemed to spark to life as his mouth suddenly twitched into a cruel smirk.

"Oh, _that_ Hermione," he replied, his tone mocking. "I remember now, yeah, she was a weird one and her crazy-ass family. Never met such a bunch of weirdos in all my life..." Dean gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw tightly. "It's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for, isn't it? Fuck, she could talk forever but I was surprised to find she could use her mouth for other things. Damn, did that girl know how to suck..."

Dean's fist collided with his face, his words halting mid-sentence and a crack sounding beneath his fist as his nose broke, but he didn't cry out in pain, he laughed madly.

"Oh, I get it, you're fucking her, aren't you? Tell me, does she still do that thing where she begs for it like a bitch in heat? Man, I still jerk off to thoughts of her mouth..."

Dean lifted him from the ground before slamming him down, his back and head thudding loudly against the floor and he groaned in pain before laughing.

"There's only one thing that bitch is good for and that's using her scarred body to pay for her meals. Not that anyone would _want_ to touch her."

That was it. White, hot rage coursed through his veins, his face flushing red and his vision blurring until he saw nothing but white light. He barely registered the ache and soreness of his hand, the sound of laughter falling to silence or the red, warm blood that coated his bruising knuckles and splattered against his face as his fist collided with his face repeatedly until he was barely recognisable.

"Dean! Fuck sake, stop, you're going to kill him!"

Dean's arm was caught mid-punch and he was hauled to his feet, away from the barely moving bloodied figure on the ground and he was pushed against the wall, being held in place.

"Dean, calm down!" His father's voice commanded.

"No, I'm going to kill him," Dean growled, trying to break free of his father's hold so he could beat _him_ with his fists, before he remembered he had his handgun hidden in the waistband of his jeans but his father seemed to know this and intercepted before he could reach it. "Let. Me. Go."

"No," his father glared right back at him, refusing to back down or show fear. "You've made your point. You've taught him a lesson for hurting Hermione but you can't kill him. We can't have any more bodies tied to our name, you're already a wanted man. If you go to jail for this, what will happen to her? Do you think she'll be fine without you? She needs you just as much as you need her. Don't be stupid and listen to me. You've done what you came to do, you've beaten him to near death and now we have to leave, the neighbours have probably already called the police, I heard you from across the street. Now go!"

He pulled back and allowed him free and before Dean could attempt to land another punch, his father gripped him by the back of the neck and forcefully shoved him out of the house, pausing briefly to see the slow rise and fall of the unconscious figure's chest. He was alive but barely.

He dragged him out of the house, Dean struggling and trying to turn back so he could finish him off but his father's grip was strong and unrelenting. As he shoved him towards the Impala, he paused in his steps when he saw the next-door neighbour stood outside of his door, watching them knowingly.

"I won't tell anyone what I heard or saw," the grey-haired man promised, folding his arms over his chest, his eyes darting between Dean's bloodied appearance (it being evident the blood was _not_ his) him struggling to break free of his father's hold and the Impala which had been parked at the side of the street for over an hour. "And neither will anyone else on the street. Michael's a nasty piece of work, we all know what he does to Becky and she's a sweet kid, doesn't deserve it. We all tried to help her but she was too afraid of him. From what I saw, he got her out of there; I saw her leave with a packed bag. But this wasn't about her, who's he know that Michael's harmed?" The neighbour asked knowingly.

Dean barely registered the conversation as he muttered to himself and ran his hand through his hair.

"His girlfriend," his father answered. The neighbour nodded slowly in understanding. "She's a pain in my ass..." Dean shot his father a withering glare and looked to be contemplating punching him. "But she's a good woman and certainly didn't deserve whatever he did to her."

The neighbour nodded. "You'd better go, someone's bound to have called the police."

His father nodded once before shoving Dean over to the Impala, fishing the keys from his pocket and pushing him into the passenger's side seat.

"You're in no fit state to drive," he told him before climbing into the driver's side, switching on the ignition and driving off, turning off the street just as sirens sounded.

"I wanted to kill him," Dean muttered, staring down at his slowly bruising and split knuckles, blood coating his skin.

"You almost did," his father replied.

"How did you know?" He turned his gaze to him, feeling the rage slowly leaving him and he sank back into his seat.

"Bobby called me, told me he'd found the guy you were looking for. He was worried you'd do more than teach him a lesson. So, I hotwired a car and drove down here. I left it three blocks away to be found."

"I promised Hermione I'd get dinner on the way back, she wants soup and pie."

"There's a diner ten miles from the motel, local's said it's a good place to eat. We'll stop there. Do you want her to know?"

"No," he shook his head. "I think she lied to me."

"About?" He arched an eyebrow.

"She told me he only ever shoved her into a wall and threw a vase at her. You didn't see the state of his current girlfriend. She was pregnant and covered in bruises and I wouldn't be surprised if there was more I couldn't see."

His father's grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles went white before he released a slow breath.

"And she lied because she knew what you'd do to him, smart girl," his father nodded. "What happened to the current girlfriend?"

"I convinced her to go home to her parents, I gave her a couple hundred dollars, it's all the money I had on me but it should be enough to get her to where she needs to be."

"Good, as for Hermione, you should probably stay in my room until you've cleaned yourself up and Sam's had a chance to see if he can figure out how to heal your hand. If sees you, she'll either worry or know, likely both."

~000~000~000~

"What the hell happened?" Sam asked, his eyes widening at the sight of his blood-spattered face and clothing and his bruised and split knuckles.

"Bobby found Hermione's ex," Dean muttered, moving to sit at the table and his head dropping into his hands.

Sam froze. "Shit," he whispered. "And that's where you went," he stated knowingly. "Is he alive?"

"Yeah, only 'cause dad pulled me away. I would've killed him. You didn't hear the things he said about her Sammy, I _wanted_ to kill him. And there was a woman, a pregnant woman covered in bruises. I managed to convince her to leave him and go back to her family, gave all the money I had to help her."

"Damn," he muttered, shaking his head. "You did a good thing, Dean, both in helping that woman and not killing him even if he did deserve it, Hermione would never forgive you. I guess we're keeping this quiet?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, dad's taken in her dinner, keeping her distracted."

Sam nodded. "I'll see if I can get her medical supplies without her noticing, I'll be right back," Sam said before he left the room.

Dean sighed to himself before reaching into his pocket and pulling his phone free, flipping it open and searching through the few contacts he had before he found the one he was looking for and pressed dial. It rang four times before the voice on the other end sounded.

"Dean? What is it? Is something wrong with Hermione?" Harry Potter asked, sounding panicked. Dean could understand why, he never called Harry. He always used Hermione's phone when talking to the kids.

"Hermione's fine," he replied tiredly, knowing not to tell him about the drowning incident as Hermione didn't want her family to know. "Just thought I'd let you know, Bobby found him."

The line went silent for only but a moment before Harry's voice said, "And?"

"And it's been taken care of."

"Good, did you kill him?"

Why was everyone asking him that question?

"No, I wanted to but my dad showed up and stopped me. He was barely breathing when we left."

"Good, I'm glad he got what was coming to him. I'll tell the others, too. Don't be surprised if you find yourself being owled prank products from George or random food baskets from Molly."

Dean snorted. "Look forward to it. Hermione doesn't know and we're keeping it that way."

"Yeah, that's for the best," Harry said knowingly. "She'd kill not only you, but me and everyone else in the know, too. She's too kind and doesn't understand that sometimes things need to be dealt with in ways that don't include forgiveness. Anyway, I'll let you go, I better help Gin put the kids to bed before she hexes my bollocks off."

"Oh, you want more kids, do you?" Dean asked.

"Merlin, no! Three's enough. You know, I see your point, it might not be such a bad punishment; it's certainly easier than her buying the potions every month," he mused.

Dean snorted. "See ya," he said, snapping the phone shut.

~000~000~000~

"Oh thank Merlin," Hermione sighed, jumping from the bed and hugging him to her before he'd even properly closed the door.

His arms folded around her and he breathed slowly, inhaling the scent of apples from her slightly damp hair.

"I was so worried. It's not like you to be gone so long, or on your own for that matter."

"Just a few errands that needed taking care of, but it's done now. No more going off on my own, promise," he muttered. "Have you eaten?"

"Yes, your dad dropped off the food. You?"

"Yeah, but I gotta say, the pie was nothing compared to your baking."

She snorted. "I'll bake you one when I next have the chance."

She pulled back from him and tugged him over to the bed, pulling him to sit beside her. Her thumb swiped over his knuckles and Dean's breathing halted when a frown pulled at her face and she brought his hand up to eye level, examining it carefully before she gave her head a shake and smile pulled at her mouth as she lowered it. Dean breathed a quiet sigh of relief, she hadn't noticed which meant Sam was getting good at magical healing with potions.

Her eyes darted to him and her teeth captured her bottom lip. His eyebrow arched and before he knew it, he'd been pushed onto his back and Hermione was straddling him, her mouth latched onto his and her hands were tugging at his hair.

"Not until you're better," he told her, reluctantly pushing her back from him by her shoulders.

"I'm fine, and I have been for days. I promise. Are you really going to deny me? It's been over a week and I've missed you."

His eyes slowly trailed her face. "You're fine?"

"Yes, I swear on my magic and you know that's not something we take lightly."

A squeal of laughter fell from her when he rolled them, pinning her beneath him as he hovered over her, staring directly into her eyes.

"What?" She asked after a few moments of silence, her features relaxed and her smile soft.

"You know I'd never hurt you, right?"

Her brow creased. "Of course I do. Where's this coming from?"

"You know I'd never lay a hand on you?"

"Yes, I know that. You may hide it, but you're one of the greatest people I've ever met and you're the only man to treat me with so much kindness and not respect anything in return. But seriously? What's brought this on?"

His eyes searched for something before he avoided the question by kissing her softly until her eyes fluttered closed, her arms wrapped around his neck and a sigh slipped past her lips.

"Okay, I'll concede but we do this my way and we'll be careful. You're not to move. Just let me do everything."

"But..." She tried to protest but he interrupted.

"No, let me _worship_ you the way you deserve," he muttered, his mouth silencing any further protests as he pressed his lips against hers.

~000~000~000~

**Six days later...**

"Whose shirt is that?" Dean asked, stepping into the room with Sam behind him, both carrying a bag of food each before they deposited them on the table and his father soon followed, a crate of beer in hand.

"Yours?" Hermione replied questioningly, looking down at the plain olive-green t-shirt she wore as she flicked through her research material for the new case they were working on.

"No, it's not," Dean replied, taking a seat at the table with his father whilst Sam crossed over to the other bed in the room, being greeted by his sleepy cat as he took his seat.

"It's not?" She frowned in confusion.

"No, I know 'cause I see you wearing my clothes more often than your own. That's not mine 'cause it's too big on you, it's almost down to your knees, my shirts aren't that big."

"I think it's mine," Sam shrugged.

Hermione and Dean's gaze darted to Sam, examining his larger frame before they both nodded.

"Well, mystery solved," Hermione said, her eyes going back to the papers in her hand.

"Hang on, you're okay with your girlfriend wearing your brother's shirt?" His father asked disbelievingly.

"I suppose so," Dean shrugged, seeing no issue with it. It was only a shirt, after all, one that had probably gotten mixed up with his things which is why Hermione was wearing it. And she was obviously comfortable and that meant more to him than anything. "You wearing shorts underneath that?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded.

"She's wearing shorts, so she's not gonna flash her ass to anyone."

"It's not as if I haven't seen it before either," Sam piped up.

"Meaning?" Dean's narrowed gaze snapped to him.

"She kicks the blankets off during the night when she's too warm," he shrugged. "Thankfully she's always wearing underwear, but I do _not_ want to know what she prefers."

"Lace, silk and satin," Dean shrugged, "Unless she's on her period, then she prefers cotton."

"Why would you tell me that?" Sam grimaced and his father rolled his eyes.

"Should I be offended that you don't like my choice in knickers?" Hermione asked, looking puzzled and Dean snorted at her. "And, while we're on the topic of discussing knickers. I have a question, something that's been bothering me for a while now."

Sam and Dean looked to each other and then to her, their eyebrows arching.

"And that is?" Dean asked.

"Will someone please tell me what the fascination is with women wearing thongs?"

"Excuse me?" Sam asked in surprise.

Hermione's gaze darted to Sam's surprised expression, his confused one and his father's amused one.

"What's the fascination with women wearing thongs? Why do men find it sexy? I don't understand it. I mean, what's sexy about a permanent wedgie?"

Laughter erupted from Dean and so much that he nearly fell off his chair.

"Where'd you find her again?" His father asked amusedly.

Dean couldn't respond, his laughter being too hard to stop or control.

"Seriously? Someone, please answer me!" Hermione spoke exasperatedly. "What's sexy about a permanent wedgie?!"

"I take it you don't wear them," his father commented, his face remarkably stoic given the topic of conversation and the question he'd just asked.

Hermione looked at him in irritation. "Are you not listening to me? Why on earth would I want to have a permanent wedgie?"

"We are far too close if we can have a conversation like this," Sam muttered, a shiver racing through him.

"There's nothing wrong about speaking of women's underwear," she argued. "Tell me, would you wear boxers that gave you a permanent wedgie?"

"Can we _please_ stop talking about this!" Sam exclaimed, his cheeks tinting pink.

"Merlin, you have a wedgie right now, don't you?"

His father burst into laughter and Dean almost passed out from laughing; Sam's face was a picture.

Whilst it was taking a long-ass time to find the demon, it was days like this that kept him sane.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 31

**Two days later...**

"I've got presents," Hermione sang, sweeping into the motel room and kicking the door shut behind her.

Dean was sprawled across the bed watching TV, Sam was on his laptop at the table and his father was flipping through a collection of newspapers.

"Presents? You only went to buy milk," said Dean, looking to the half a dozen bags she carried in her hands.

"Please, everyone knows that when you go out to buy something in particular, you always spend more than intended," she replied, setting the bags on the floor by the bed.

"I don't."

"Well, you're not normal," she quipped.

He rolled his eyes. "And you bought presents because...?" He prompted.

"Because I like buying presents for people, leave me be," she scowled at him. "First, Sammy..." She dug into one of the bags before throwing an unwrapped box across the room, it being caught by Sam, as he removed the lid and looked to Hermione in surprise. "I know how you like your gadgets."

"Yeah, thanks, it's great," Sam responded happily.

Dean saw Sam remove an item from the box before fastening it around his wrist and tapping at the watch face.

"Smartwatch," Hermione explained, distractedly digging through the bags. "Papa Winchester, catch," she threw something over her shoulder without watching what she was doing, his father having to reach to catch it.

"A wallet?" His father arched an eyebrow.

"A _designer_ wallet, you ungrateful arse," she huffed. "That's _genuine_ Italian leather. I don't know how you can stand having loose change and bills stuffed into your pockets. It drives me bloody batty when I see the folded bills sticking out of your pockets. And the number of times I've had to pick up the bills that have fallen from your pocket before someone else does is downright annoying. Use the wallet or I'll kill you with it."

"It's genuine Italian leather," he parroted.

"Yes, something that _I_ paid for. I'll kill you and then pawn it, I'll get most of my money back and kill you off, it's a win-win."

He snorted at her, digging his change and bills from his pocket before stuffing them into the wallet under Hermione's glare. Smiling happily, she turned back to the bags and dug through them once more.

"Ah, there it is," she said triumphantly, rising to full height and throwing something towards him before once more digging through the bags.

It was a silver Swiss Army knife, his initials monogrammed on not only the handle but on each of the appliances, too. He felt his mouth tug into a smile. He'd mentioned in passing that he could use a new one but that had been well before Christmas, and he hadn't thought anyone had listened to him or would remember. In fact, _he_ hadn't remembered until he'd seen the gift she'd bought him.

"Thanks," he grinned.

"I've also bought this."

She lifted something from the bag and unfolded it before holding it up, revealing a plan light-grey hoodie. He eyed her strangely. He never wore hoodies, and she knew that. He didn't own any. Why would she buy him one?

"Put it on."

"What?"

"Put it on."

"Why?"

"Because I bought it, I want to see what it looks like on."

"You know that's not my kind of thing," he replied.

"Put it on," she huffed, tossing it at him.

Sighing, he removed his shirt before reaching for the hoodie and slipping it over his head, finding that it fit almost perfectly. Hermione tilted her head to the side before nodding to herself.

"I like it," she confirmed. "I'm going to jump through the shower, don't take that off."

"What if I get too hot?"

"Suffer," she shrugged, uncaring. "Just don't take it off until I come back. I'll know if you have."

She headed for the bathroom and closed the door behind her, Dean's eyes following her movements before they darted to his amused brother and father.

"What the hell was that about?" He asked, perplexed.

"I stopped trying to understand her months ago," replied Sam, once more tapping away at the screen of his watch.

Hermione stepped out of the bathroom half an hour later, her wet hair piled atop her head, her skin flushed pink from the heat of her shower and she wore cotton pyjama pants and the matching tank top.

"You can take it off now," she told him.

Silently thanking God, he quickly removed the offending item of clothing, only to blink in surprise when she took it from him and slipped it on over her head, the sleeves falling past her wrists and the hem falling to her mid-thigh. She snuggled against the fabric, burying her nose under the neckline before sighing happily.

"That's better."

"Okay...?" He questioned slowly.

"What?" She looked to him, folding her arms around her middle. "You know I steal your clothes all the time, but you don't have any jumpers or hoodies I can steal. We're in the middle of winter, it's bloody cold all the time. I said I bought this, but I didn't say I bought it for you."

"Let me get this straight, you bought a hoodie to give to me to give to yourself?" He scratched at his head.

"That's right," she nodded. "And now, it smells like you, too, really drives home the illusion that I stole it from you. Isn't it cute?" She smiled before returning to the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror.

"Witches, I'll never understand them," Dean muttered.

"Women," his father corrected. "No matter the race or species, whatever you wanna call it, _all_ females are difficult to understand."

~000~000~000~

**Two days later...**

"Is it me, or have dad and Hermione been getting along recently?" Dean asked his brother as they waited in line at the drive-thru, having already placed their order but were waiting for their food.

"Have they?" Sam asked distractedly, his nose buried in one of Hermione's magical books, this one something to do with the history of the Witch Trials and the implementing of the Statute of Secrecy. Dean couldn't think of anything more boring.

"Hermione hasn't tried to kill him in over a week, they haven't had an argument in two days and dad seems less hostile when she uses her magic."

Sam snorted. "I imagine it has nothing to do with her saving his life."

"That's the point. Hermione saving his life _causes_ the hostility and arguments," replied Dean, pulling the car forward one space as another took their leave from the queue. "Remind me to get ketchup packets."

"She has _three_ bottles of ketchup in her purse."

"I know, I've had this argument with her before, apparently the bottles are for homemade food and the ketchup packets are for fast food. I don't see the difference but she swears they taste different," he rolled his eyes.

"Of course, she does," Sam said, unsurprised. "I've never seen someone with such an unhealthy obsession with the stuff, she practically drinks it from the bottle."

"Mayonnaise, too. She always puts one or other on the majority of her meals, I've seen her use both at the same time."

Sam grimaced. "She's a bottomless pit, I don't know where she puts it all. There's not an ounce of fat on her, how the hell is she so skinny? She should be the size of a house."

"Don't let her hear you say that," Dean warned. "Remember what happened last time dad said something similar."

Sam winced. "Yeah, that wasn't pretty," he agreed. "And as for dad's issue with Hermione's magic, he's been in the know for some time now, I guess it's finally setting in that she's not evil and that magic can be good and used for good purposes... Ketchup!... That _and_ Hermione's getting annoyed with him looking at her as though she's the Anti-Christ."

"In his book, she might as well be," Dean replied, shifting the packed food into the bag Hermione had charmed to ensure the food stayed hot during the drive to the motel. "His reasoning, she has magic, magic comes from Hell."

"Hermione'll take offence to that," said Sam, absentmindedly sticking his hand into the bag, drawing back with a fry and putting it into his mouth. When Dean slapped him upside the head and glared at him, he sighed before slipping the food onto the back seat. "The magic from Hell is nothing but a cheap imitation of the magic of the trueborns," he recited, having heard Hermione's thoughts on the magic of Hell too many times to count. "To us, it's powerful and dark, to her, it's nothing but an annoying fly that can't be swotted away. And although I really don't wish to run into a demon-witch..." He paused a moment so he might sip from his drink. "I kind of do at the same time. We haven't yet, surprisingly, seen Hermione's magic against Hell magic, and she's adamant she can take multiple practitioners at once."

"And you doubt her?" Dean arched an eyebrow. "After everything we've seen her do?"

"No, I don't doubt her, I just wish to see it with my own eyes. Being aware of her limitations can only be advantageous, especially given what we're currently searching for. I don't particularly understand it but Hell magic obviously comes from Hell, it's powered by the trapped souls. But Hermione said her magic is believed to have come from the earth. She said she can sometimes feel the magic in the ground and air."

"What?"

"Beats me," he shrugged, his hand reaching back to steal another fry from the bag but Dean slapped it away.

"Don't look at me like that, she's too damn clever and she'll know that you've had your grubby paws in there. She'll make your life miserable."

Sam grumbled before burying his nose in the book once more, the remainder of the journey filled with the music buzzing from the speakers and Sam occasionally trying to steal fries but Dean intervening before he could.

When they reached the motel and parked up, they headed for his and Hermione's motel room, that being where they'd left Hermione and their father as he and Sam were tasked with retrieving dinner as well as carrying out a few pointless errands for their father, something neither of them understood the purpose of.

As they neared Room 3A, Dean felt his stomach twisting into knots, panic rising and his head spinning as the muffled sounds of a fight reached them. Ignoring Sam's words of caution, his hand automatically drew his handgun from the waistband of his jeans and he rushed forward, kicking the locked door open until it slammed into the wall, breaking the door frame.

As he did so, he caught a glimpse of Hermione's tight grip on his father's arm before she ducked beneath him and used some unknown strength to flip him over her shoulder. He slammed into the table, it breaking into pieces under his weight and the force, hitting the ground hard with a groan.

Hermione breathed heavily, partially bent over as she struggled to regain her breathing and then suddenly she was lying on the ground, her feet having been swept out from beneath her.

He hadn't even realised he'd aimed his handgun at his father or that he was slowly advancing in fury that he dared to lay a hand on her after all the warnings he'd had and after all the times Hermione had saved his life, not until he felt a strong hand clamp over his shoulder and it tugged him backwards, the handgun being plucked out of his grasp without effort.

"Calm down," Hermione muttered through a groan. "He wasn't hurting me."

"No, you look damn well hurt to me," Dean snapped, his furious gaze darting to his father who still lay sprawled on the ground with pieces of the broken table lying beneath him, all without a care in the world.

She winced as she pushed herself up onto her elbows, her gaze locking with his, and it was then he saw a bruise forming on her left cheek, a cut above her right eyebrow and a split in her lip.

The only thing that stopped him from reaching his father was Sam's tight grip.

"Honestly," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Look at me."

"I am," he snapped.

" _All_ of me," she corrected.

He was reluctant to do so but when he did, he noticed her flushed appearance, her hair being a complete mess with half of the curls being tied back from her face and the rest having fallen free. It wasn't intentional, that much was obvious. He suspected it had once been a bun that sat atop her head but now looked like a half-assed ponytail, with an extra helping of half-arseness. Her clothing, she wasn't wearing the t-shirt and jeans from before, neither was she sporting pyjamas or lounge pants. No, she wore sneakers on her feet, dark yoga pants and the matching sports bra.

His brow furrowed in confusion.

"I don't understand," he confessed, his eyes darting between her and his father.

His father released a sigh before he pushed himself up onto his elbows, too, looking unconcerned with the blood that sat beneath his nose and dribbled over his mouth, the bruise that was forming on his left-side jaw or the cut on his right cheek.

"He's teaching me."

"Huh?"

She rolled her eyes and blew a curl out of her face. "To defend myself. Let's face it, without my wand I'm pretty much useless, and I can only cast a limited amount of non-verbal and wandless magic. Yes, I know how to throw a punch with enough force to knock someone unconscious, but in a fight, I'm useless."

Dean blinked slowly, his eyes analyzing the scene before him. His father was _helping_ her? _Teaching_ her to defend herself without her magic?

"Why didn't you ask me to help you? Why didn't you say anything before?"

"Do I even need to answer that?" She cocked her eyebrow, apparently also being unconcerned with her injuries. "You'd be too cautious. You wouldn't want to hurt me or you'd worry about hurting me and you'd hold back. I know you, you'd never throw a punch at me even if I asked or if it was for the purpose of teaching me to better defend myself. And whilst Sam wouldn't be as reserved as you, I know he'd also worry about hurting me and hold back, especially given our size and weight difference. Your father has no qualms about punching me in the face or kicking me to the ground," she shrugged, wincing when the action upset her aching shoulder.

Dean glared at his father.

"I can't win," he grumbled, falling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. "I fight with her, you don't like it. I avoid her, you don't like it. I try to improve her chances of surviving a fight, you don't like it. I give in."

Dean felt Sam release his shoulder before shoving him out of the way and moving to sit on the bed, placing the untouched and unharmed bag of food beside him, something Hermione's eyes were drawn to immediately.

"How long's this been going on?" Sam asked curiously. "It's obvious you do it when we're not around and with your magic and healing repairing injuries and potential damage, we'd never know. You throwing him over your shoulder, that isn't something that can be learned in a couple of hours, not with the confidence you showed, at least, and that means this isn't the first time," Sam deduced.

"I don't know, it started not long after Christmas. We spar a couple of times a week, depending on how often we're alone," she shrugged, once more regretting the motion but that didn't stop her from pulling herself to her feet, moving to sit on the bed and digging through the food bag in search of her order and the extra ketchup packets. "Why are they so bloody stingy, what am I supposed to do with three ketchup packets?" She griped.

Sam snorted and dug his own order from the bag, he and Hermione ignoring the mess in the room, him and his father lying on the ground without a care in the world. Dean honestly didn't know what to do or say about the revelation that his father had been teaching his girlfriend to defend herself for weeks without his knowing. He wasn't even certain of his motives.

Was he doing it because he felt he owed Hermione for all the times she'd saved his life? Was it because he enjoyed the opportunity to beat the crap out of her without her magic protecting her? Was it simply because she'd asked for his help? Did he have some ulterior motive? Was it a way to figure out her weaknesses so he might use them against her?

Sighing, Dean realised he had a headache forming and he silently crossed into the bathroom so he might splash some water on his face and scrub his hands before he ate his own food. As he rose to full height and dried his face with the nearby hand towel, his eyes caught sight of his father stood in the doorway, leaning against the door frame.

"I know what you're thinking," he stated.

"Do you?" Dean challenged, his hands settling on the porcelain sink and gripping tightly in an effort to prevent him from punching his father.

"Yes. You want to hit me for the injuries caused, no matter of the fact she gave as good as she got. For someone so tiny, she packs one hell of a punch, with _and_ without magic."

Dean's brow creased. Was that... _Pride_ he'd heard? He turned to face him, leaning back against the sink.

"You wanna know my reason for helping her. It's as she said, you and Sam won't and can't help her, Sam doesn't know his own strength sometimes and she's turned you soft."

"No, she hasn't," Dean denied.

His father snorted. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing, even if you do let her plaster your face in those ridiculous face masks..."

"That you enjoy," Dean interrupted but he continued as if he hadn't heard him.

"...Paint her toenails or braid her hair for her, something I _never_ thought I'd see."

"It's damn hard, there's so much of it!" Dean argued. "You need at least three hands to hold all the damn hair... I can hotwire a car faster."

"Look, I know I wasn't and haven't been the best father, you and Sam deserved better. I know I fucked up your childhoods, that you've both got a shit tonne of issues that may never be worked out... But you've changed, you're different and for the better and I know it's because of her. She might deny the fact she's had anything to do with it, but I know it's only because of her that you're better, I know she's the reason Sam's kept it together after what happened to Jess, and for that, I owe her in ways I can never repay. I know Sam loves her like a sister and I know you love her..."

Dean swallowed, an uncomfortable knot twisting in his stomach as he fought the urge to shuffle and shift his weight.

"I'm helping her because I owe her. As much as I hate to admit it, she's saved my life more times than I can count in the last few weeks. She's the reason Sammy's sane and you're happy. She's the reason you're still alive. And I know you love her, so I'm doing it for you and for her..." He sighed, bringing his hand up to rub over his face, wincing when he nudged his nose. "She's not... She's not evil," he confessed despite the fact he'd struggled to speak the words. "She's not, and neither is her magic, and that's something I'm beginning to understand. You and Sam know how to defend yourselves and you have weapons training. She doesn't, and it's not fair to put her at risk because neither you nor Sam is capable of teaching her without worrying about her or pulling punches. The way I see it and from what I've seen so far, you're gonna put a ring on her finger at some point..." His mouth twitched, seeing Dean's clear discomfort. "And she's gonna be family, officially. It's the right thing to do, to ensure her safety and in the process, yours."

"Mine?"

"You're less likely to do something stupid if anything happens, knowing that she can handle herself with her magic and without."

"I don't know what to say," Dean admitted, his mind filling with potential responses but none of them seemed right.

"You don't have to say anything," his father shrugged.

"When you two are done having a mother's meeting!" Called Hermione's voice. "There's food out here and if you don't come and get it, I'm eating it!" She threatened.

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes, he and his father sharing a look before they both stepped from the bathroom, Dean noting that all of the damage to the furnishings and the door had been repaired, and as Hermione ate her burger, she was also tending to her injuries.

~000~000~000~

**Three days later...**

"Bitch!"

"Arsehole!"

"Demon!"

"Knobhead!"

"Hag!"

"Wanker!"

Dean rolled his eyes, barely taking his attention from the road before him and when he felt a nudge at his cheek, he reached up with his hand, a purr sounding by his ear as he scratched Sadie's head, his little protector curled around his neck and along the back of his seat, as was usual.

Dean had honestly gotten used to their insults and petty arguments, they were like children when they were confined in small spaces for more than an hour or two. Usually, he would just turn the radio up to drown out the noise but they'd started arguing louder to the point they were screaming and it gave him a headache.

"Witch-Demon!"

"Prat!"

"Wicked Witch of the West!"

"Ooooh, that's original, it's no wonder your two brain cells couldn't come up with something better, you bloody moron!"

"Don't be surprised if a house falls from the sky and lands on you, you're the intended target!"

"That was the Wicked Witch of the East, you imbecile. The Wicked Witch of the West _melted_ after having water thrown at her."

"Great idea, let's see if it works!"

"I swear, if a single drop of water hits me, I'll turn you into a toad!"

"Ooooh, that's original! Who'd you steal that from? Morgan De Ley!"

"It's _Morgana Le Fey_ , you dick! If you're going to make fun of my people's history, at least get it right!"

"Whatever, at least I'm not a damn witchling!"

"No, are you sure? You do seem to enjoy a pamper session and I've seen you reading Cosmopolitan Magazine on your own decision. Is there something you wish to tell us...? And neither am I, I'm a full-grown witch and have been for a decade."

"Full-grown? I've seen dogs bigger than you!"

"How dare you?! I'm average height for a woman of my weight and age! Be more sensitive, Knobhead!"

A pause of silence...

"You've used that one already."

"No, I haven't."

"You have," Sam piped up, barely taking his eyes from the book in his grasp.

"I... I have?"

Dean looked to her, seeing her horrified expression.

"Afraid so," he replied, nodding slightly.

"Oh, Merlin!" She whispered, looking truly disgusted with herself as her gaze darted to her hands. "What have I done? I used the same insult twice in one day. Godric! There's something wrong with me, that's unforgivable." She lifted her head, looking directly to him, her expression deadly serious as she said, "You need to break up with me."

Sam snorted, the sound being followed by the turning of a page in his book.

"It's been a long day, you're tired. I forgive you," said Dean, his mouth twitching in amusement.

"You're too good to me and I don't deserve it."

Shaking his head in amusement, Dean looked back to the road, hearing his father say,

"So I win?"

Hermione whipped around so fast it was a wonder she didn't give herself whiplash.

"Like Hell you do!"

"You used the same insult twice," he responded smugly.

She narrowed her eyes. "It's been a long day, I'm tired," she argued.

His father opened his mouth to respond when the ringing of a phone sounded in the car, his father reaching into his pocket and drawing back with it. Dean turned down the radio, his eyes darting between the road and his father as he took the call, his father's expression growing grave, angry and sullen before he snapped the phone shut.

"So?" Hermione prompted.

"A friend of mine, Pastor Jim Murphy... He's been found dead, suspected demon killing."

The atmosphere in the car plummeted and Dean spied the way Sadie shifted on the back of his seat as if to be closer to his father, and Crookshanks lifted his head from his paws, watching his father carefully from his place lounging in-between him and Sam, whilst Domino was sprawled across Sam's lap.

"What do you want us to do?" Dean asked.

"Continue to Salvation," he responded, his voice and eyes void of emotion. "This ends...Now... I'm ending it. I don't care what it takes."

"Well I _do_ care," Hermione added, looking to his father with something he didn't quite understand, but the older Hunter did. "I understand he was your friend, and if it was a demon, chances are it was done to draw you out. Word's bound to have spread what we're up to and they're going to do everything they can to stop us. Killing your friend is likely another attempt to draw you out so they might get what they want. It wouldn't be the first time. And because it was a friend of yours, that makes things personal and when emotions are involved that's when things go tits up."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he snapped.

Dean _almost_ slammed on the brakes so he could turn to look back at his father and glare at him for daring to snap at his girlfriend in such a way, especially when she was only trying to help.

"Don't I?" She responded, her tone chilly, her expression cold and angry. "I guess you glossed over the part where I was a fucking _child_ solider. Where I was a fugitive, a torture victim, where I had countless near-death experiences all before the age of eighteen. Where I was forced to watch those I cared for, those that I knew and that were my friends and mentors, die. I think I know better than anyone what grief and emotion can do to a person. And let's not forget when my partner of five years allowed his personal attachment to a hostage victim get the better of his judgement, resulting in the death of twelve others as well as himself and I barely survived. Do you know what it's like to be the sole survivor of such a thing? Or the psychological damage it leaves behind? No, you don't. So don't you dare presume what I do and do not know," she snapped, her cheeks flushing red and her hair frizzing up, golden sparks zinging about her head.

"Grow the fuck up, there's more on the line here. You're not just risking your life, but mine, Sam's _and_ Dean's, and you're not the only one that cares for them. You witnessed how my family's accepted them, how my nieces and nephews adore them. They'd be devastated if anything should happen to either one of them and if it does and you're the cause because you let your emotions cloud your judgement, _I'll_ put you in the ground, and that's a promise. I don't care if you take me with you or if I'm already dead when I do so, my number one priority is ensuring Sam and Dean are safe, something that as their father, should be yours. You've already fucked their lives up to the point neither of them would be considered securely sane, and I won't let you cause any further damage by throwing yourself headfirst into this without proper thought or planning."

Silence reigned for far too long as they stared at one another, Dean's eyes darted between them and the road and Sam's eyes had widened and his mouth hung open, his book long since forgotten.

~000~000~000~

"You should've told me!"

Dean felt his anger build as his eyes darted between his visibly upset younger brother (who Hermione was trying to comfort as she glared daggers at his father) and his furious father.

They'd finally found a pattern, occurrences that had happened in Lawrence, Kansas before the death of their mother, and they were happening in Salvation, Iowa. When they'd finally arrived in Salvation after a long, tense and silent few hours, they checked into the closest motel they could find before they decided to split up and divide the tasks amongst them, having so much to do and it needing to be done as quickly as possible.

As such, Hermione and Sam headed for the medical centre so they might sneak a look at the birth records of all children born within the last six months, Dean handled the search for any more potential strange occurrences, trying to map it out to a specific location, and his father took control of surveillance.

After Sam suffered with another vision (something that hadn't happened in weeks) and he and Hermione unexpectedly met the woman and child centred around his vision, they'd been unable to warn her and they returned to the motel to share the development with him, which meant his father was hearing about Sam's strange powers for the first time, case and point his anger.

"What the Hell were you thinking? Obliviously, you weren't. When were you going to tell me about this?"

"We didn't know what it meant," Dean ran a hand through his hear.

"Something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone and you call me."

Dean saw Hermione open her mouth to no doubt berate his father, but Dean beat her to it, his own patience had worn thin.

"And when the Hell were we supposed to do that?" Dean snapped, his father's eyes being drawn to him and he visibly blinked in surprise. Aside from the one time he'd raised his voice at him after he'd shot Hermione, he'd never before done so. "When it began happening we were searching for you for _months_ and you _deliberately_ ignored us, no matter how many calls or texts we sent. We'd have had a better chance at winning the damn lottery than you answering the phone! As for after, I don't know if you've noticed but we've been busy lately and we've had a lot to deal with, he hasn't had an episode for weeks and we forgot about it."

"Forget, you forgot!"

"Yeah, forgot!" Dean confirmed, not backing down. "Sorry to say, my attention's been on my girlfriend since you shot her, and I've been trying to stop you from killing each other."

"Maybe you shouldn't have bothered!"

"Maybe you're right!"

"Stop it!" Sam interrupted, his hands rubbing at his temples as he stared down at the ground.

Dean looked to him, seeing his tired, defeated expression and as Hermione had her hand pressed to his back, rubbing comfortingly, her eyes moved to him, her glare softening as she silently asked if he was alright. He took a breath, uncurled his clenched fists and subtly nodded. She didn't respond as her eyes darted back to his father, her glare reappearing.

~000~000~000~

"I thought the bitch was dead," Dean grumbled, pushing his hand through his hair.

"Technically, she is," Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "The fall _did_ kill her, even magic wouldn't be able to heal that kind of damage, I'd bet everything I have that she died upon impact. But she'd possessed by a demon, isn't she? Or is that yet to be confirmed? Anyway, the moment it leaves her body, well..." She trailed off, allowing them to come to their own understanding.

"What're we going to do?" Muttered Sam, slumped over at the table with his face buried in his arms.

"We can't give her the Colt," said Dean. "We need it."

"But if we don't, she'll continue to kill everyone he knows," added Hermione.

"So we don't give her it," his father spoke up, stood by the window and staring out at the parking lot. "She's never seen it before, she won't be able to tell the difference between _the_ Colt and a fake."

"But when she does figure it out, she'll kill you," Hermione pointed out. "And even if she doesn't, she'll still kill you. Either way, you're dead. We all know she's not going to let you walk."

"So I'll be quick."

"I'll go with you."

All eyes turned to Hermione, one set unsurprised, the other two very surprised.

"What?" Dean and his father unintentionally asked.

"I'll go with you," she repeated, barely taking her attention from the bag of candy in her grasp as she searched for the one she wanted.

"It's too dangerous," Dean said, whilst his father added, "Sam and Dean need you here."

"Shut up, the both of you," she sighed, lifting her gaze momentarily before lowering back to the bag of candy. "As far as we're aware, Meg doesn't know about me. When I rescued Sam and Dean from her trap, I was hidden by my magic, she didn't see or hear me. And if she ever does find out about me, I doubt she'll cause much trouble. As I said before, the supernatural holds no power over trueborn magic and therefore, the lower level and less powerful demons and whatnot are afraid of us. It's why they keep their distance. Even if we do have magic protecting our entryways into the Wizarding World, we're still able to feel a potential security breach from the supernatural and as far as I'm aware, there's never been a recorded instant, and I'd know; I used to have access to such files given my law enforcement background."

"Anyway, if I go with you, I can ensure you get out safely. I could be stood right beside you and they'd never know. And whilst I'm with you, Sam and Dean can stake out Monica's house and ensure hers and Rosie's safety. They know what they're doing, they don't need me, so I can be with you."

"Makes sense," Sam nodded in agreement. "Better for your safety, too," he looked to their father. "You'll be all but invincible with Hermione by your side."

"Dean?" The older Hunter questioned.

Dean's brow furrowed and a twisting began in his stomach. He didn't like that idea, _hated_ it, really. He liked Hermione to be nearby so he could keep an eye on her, no matter of the fact she was the most powerful person he knew and she was more than capable of handling herself. In fact, she was the one that kept them out of trouble more often than not. But still... To leave her and his father alone... _Together_... He didn't like it.

"If she gets hurt, it's your ass," he warned, levelling him with a narrowed gaze to show he was serious.

"I can take care of myself," Hermione said indignantly before she slipped a gummy worm into her mouth, biting the head off with more aggression than was necessary. "As for the fake Colt, any ideas?"

"I can head out and buy one easily enough," Dean shrugged.

"Why do that when you have me?"

"What d'you mean?"

She rolled her eyes, set her bag of candy aside and then drew her wand from beneath her sleeve. Standing, she crossed over to the table and muttered something beneath her breath, the newspaper that sat on the table transforming into a handgun.

"I'd forgotten you could do that," said Dean, still finding himself amazed at the all but limitless things she could do with her magic, and he wasn't stupid; he knew it to be practice, skill and dedication rather than just luck. She worked hard to perform the feats of magic she cast, he'd seen her practising the wand movements for a water manipulation charm for three hours before she deemed herself ready to attempt casting the charm. Something she perfected on the third attempt, he might proudly add.

"That's not a Colt," said his father as he stepped away from the window and closer to the table, seemingly unphased by the newspaper-turned-gun.

"You don't say," she rolled her eyes. "I'm not an idiot, that was just a quick demonstration. Give me an hour and I can transfigure a Colt that will be so indistinguishable from the other, even you won't be able to see the difference."

His father arched a challenging eyebrow. "And will it fire bullets?"

"With a little extra spellwork, more than likely, yes. But I have to warn you, transfiguration isn't permanent, but given how small an object it is, it should be good for a few hours. There is a spell I could use in order to create a physical copy, but that has an even shorter life-span, usually around an hour before it disappears."

"Well then, Witchling, get to work."

Hermione sent a glare so chilling, it was a wonder she didn't give his father frostbite.

~000~000~000~

**One day later...**

"Err...Dean, Honey, I know you're worried about your father but can you please slow down."

Dean's eyes darted to Hermione beside him, seeing the way one hand gripped the door, the other the edge of the seat and she'd pushed herself as far back into the seat as possible, her eyes wide in terror and her teeth sunk into her lip in worry. Blood was smudged across her pale face, it soaked the sleeves of her t-shirt and coated her hands.

So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours, more than Dean thought possible and more than any one person could deal with.

The yellow-eyed demon had made an appearance and for the first time in decades, they'd had the chance to kill him. Unfortunately, he'd managed to escape but in doing so, they'd been able to save the life of Monica and her baby, Rosie.

Having not heard from his father or Hermione, he'd tried to get in touch with them, which was when Meg had answered the phone, promising he'd never see his father again. He'd been filled with worry but with her failure to mention Hermione, he was hopeful it meant she was still unharmed and undetected, meaning they still had a chance.

He and Sam needed back up and after a long and tense argument, they'd headed to Bobby's hoping the older Hunter might be able to help them with their search. However, they'd barely been there half an hour when Meg arrived, kicking down a perfectly good door that was already unlocked.

After trapping her under a demon's trap and exercising the demon, they'd been left with a clue from the dying human Meg. It seemed Hermione's assumptions about her dying on impact had been wrong after all.

Hours bled into more and when they finally tracked down their father (sans Hermione which had worried the shit out of him) they were able to rescue him from the guarded apartment before hiding out in a remote cabin. It wasn't until his father complimented him, until he said some suspiciously kind words that he felt dread fill his stomach, knowing something was wrong.

And he was right. He'd been possessed by the yellow-eyed demon.

After shit hit the fan, resulting in him and Sam being thrown around and Dean being sure he had some internal damage, Sam was able to shoot their father in the leg, restoring some control before the demon fled.

And it was at that exact moment when the door was blown off its hinges and Hermione stepped into the doorway, her expression livid. As she darted over to his father upon Dean's request, she tended to him the best she could, trying to keep him alive for as long as possible until they were able to reach a hospital.

Even with her magic and potions, she was only a magical paramedic; she could handle minor injuries and broken bones, even gunshot wounds such as her own, but she didn't have the right equipment, knowledge or experience to handle an injury such as his father's, not when the femoral artery had been hit and he was losing too much blood. She stuffed potions down his throat quicker than his father could swallow and she hadn't been kind about it either, and that was when Dean discovered that his father had injected Hermione with a sedative (where the Hell did he get a sedative?) before his meeting with Meg, which is how and why he'd been captured.

Dean was furious with him, even if his father swore he'd done it to keep Hermione safe, to keep her away from the demons and to keep her unknown to them.

And after they dragged him to the Impala, despite his own injuries and refusing Hermione's insistence that she give him a once over, his worry for his father overrode his concern for himself and he was speeding his way to the nearest hospital. He felt awful for frightening her, especially after what she'd gone through - waking up in a random hotel room with nothing but her wand (Dean having had her magical purse) and the clothes on her back, and she had to track them down across another State.

"I can't," he muttered, giving his head a shake.

"You're worried, I get it, but I've done all that I can for him."

Dean darted a glance back at his father, seeing him tiredly glaring at Sam who was determinedly looking out of the window, avoiding that glare.

"I've not stopped the bleeding but I have slowed it and given him a blood transfusion, it should be enough to keep him stable long enough to get him to the hospital, but really, you're scaring the shit out of me. Driving like this, you're only increasing the possibility of a crash."

"We're not going to crash."

Oh, how wrong he was.

~000~000~000~

**One day later...**

He felt odd.

He felt fine, but not at the same time.

He felt like himself, only something was missing.

When his eyes fluttered open to be met with blinding lights, it took him a moment to adjust and when he did, he soon discovered that he was in a hospital room. Feeling confused, he absentmindedly shifted from beneath the blanket, climbed from the bed and went in search of someone, anyone.

It wasn't until he began walking the empty corridors that he grew suspicious and it wasn't until he tried to get the attention of a nurse who looked to have no idea he was even there that he grew worried. Concerned and worried, he headed back to his room, blinking in surprise at the sight of... _himself_. He was lying on the bed, unresponsive and hooked up to more machines than he could count. And it wasn't until Sam appeared with bumps, scrapes and bruises that things began to set in.

They'd been in a car accident.

The very thing Hermione had warned him against.

Hermione! Where was she? Was something wrong? It must've been, he knew her. She barely left his side when he had the damn flu a few months back, there's wasn't a chance in Hell she wouldn't be at his bedside now, not unless she couldn't be.

He'd tried to get Sam's attention, tried asking for answers, but his brother had no idea he was there, his soul detached from his body, able to observe but not interact.

"Your father is awake."

Dean's head snapped towards the door as a doctor stepped into the room. His father? Oh God, he'd forgotten!

"You may visit with his if you wish."

"And Dean?"

The doctor's expression grew sullen. "Your brother has suffered many serious injuries, however, I am most concerned about the head trauma cashed during the RTA. Unfortunately, I can't determine the full scale of his injuries until he wakes... _If_ he wakes."

"Don't say that," Sam interrupted, shaking his head vigorously in denial. "You don't know him the way I do. He's a fighter, he's been through worse than this. I know he'll wake."

"It's best not to get your hopes us," warned the doctor before he made to leave.

"And Hermione? Hermione Granger?" Sam asked and the doctor turned to face him once more. Dean held his breath, waiting for his reply.

"Mr. Winchester, you know I cannot reveal such confidential information on another patient."

"That _patient_ is my brother's fiancé. She's like a sister to me and I promised Dean that I would take care of her if anything happened to him. I can't do that if I don't know what I'm working with. She was in the car with us."

The doctor sighed. "Have you had any luck contacting her next of kin?"

"No. Her brother's in England. Not only is there a time difference, the only number I know to reach him on was on Dean's and Hermione's phones. Dean's was damaged during the crash and Hermione's hasn't been recovered yet. I never thought I'd need it so I didn't memorise it or add it to my contact's list. Right now, until I find a way to get in touch with him and even if I did, he's in a different _continent_ , I'm her next of kin, regardless of a bit of paperwork."

The doctor held Sam's gaze for a moment, Dean's eyes darting between them, hoping Sam's words had worked to persuade the doctor in revealing her condition. Hoping she had but a few bumps and bruises.

"Should anyone hear that I revealed such information to a non-family member..."

"I won't tell anyone," Sam promised. "When Dean makes it out of this, they're going to get married and we _will_ be her family."

The doctor cleared his throat before nodding stiffly. "As Miss. Granger and your brother were seated in the passenger and driver seats and from the angle of collision, they received the brunt of the injuries. As the car was struck on the passenger's side, Miss. Granger's injuries are severe."

Dean stumbled backwards, straight through the medical equipment and into the wall. His head swam, his vision blurred, his throat tightened, his heart clenched, his stomach knotted. It was all too much. It was too painful.

His girlfriend had been injured because of him. Severely injured. He swore to never harm her, to always protect her and he was the reason she was in the hospital.

"Her injuries are similar to your brother's, she's currently in surgery as they attempt to repair the damage to her pancreas and slow the internal bleeding. Despite the abdominal trauma, Miss. Granger's injuries might have been worse had she not been wearing a seatbelt. She appears to also have head trauma, but as I said with your brother, we won't know the full scale until she wakes."

"Thank you," Sam muttered. "And erm... I don't know if this matters or not, but she might still have a sedative in her system."

"I'm sorry?" The doctor questioned in surprise.

"Sedatives, I'm not sure what kind, only that she had some."

"And when was this?"

"More than twenty-four hours, at least."

"And why would she have a need for sedatives?" The doctor pressed.

"She served in the British Army before retiring and relocating to America. She suffers from PTSD, sometimes she's given a sedative if it's triggered and she can't be calmed by other methods," Sam lied. "My father should know the name if it's important."

The doctor cleared his throat. "Thank you, Mr. Winchester. Someone will be by soon to check on your brother and as I said, you may visit with your father."

"And Hermione?"

The doctor hesitated before saying, "When she is out of surgery, I will have someone inform you."

"And their jewellery? It might not seem to be worth much, but they have extreme sentimental value, something I know can't be replaced."

"We'll do our best to ensure they remain undamaged and that they are returned."

~000~000~000~

Dean wandered the hospital in a blur, numb to everyone and everything around him. He'd searched every room possible in search of Hermione, even the ORs and when he exited the last one, he came to the conclusion she was out of surgery and he retraced his steps, searching for her room.

He wasn't sure how long he wandered but he almost collapsed in relief when he caught sight of Sam's mop of hair. Stepping into the room he occupied, he was sat in a chair beside a bed that rested Hermione. Her face was marred with cuts and bruises, bandages were wrapped around her head, tubes came from her mouth and arms, monitoring her condition and ensuring her health.

As she was dressed in the hideous and draughty hospital gown, her chest rising and falling softly, she almost looked to be peacefully sleeping.

He'd done this to her.

He hated himself.

She almost died because of him. She _could_ still die because of him. What was he going to do? How was he ever going to make this up to her? She'd never trust him again. She would leave him and he deserved it.

When Sam unexpectedly sprang from his seat and out into the hallway, it caught his attention and Dean followed, seeing Sam flagging down a nurse that held a clear plastic bag, one that contained what looked to be a mixture of their personal items.

"I'll take that," said Sam to the nurse who gave him a suspicious look. "That's my brother's jacket and Hermione's purse. I want to see if her phone was found, I need to contact her brother and let him know what happened."

"Her brother?"

"Yes, he lives in England."

"England?" She blinked slowly.

"Yes, London, England, Hermione's British," Sam replied, his expression being clear that he had no time or patience for the woman.

Once he'd taken the personal belongings, he returned to the room and dumped them out on his lap, finding Hermione's phone amongst them. It looked to have some damage but it didn't stop it from working.

"Harry? It's Sam..."

Dean couldn't stay. He didn't want to leave Hermione but he couldn't stay and listen to Harry's furious response, he couldn't stay and listen to him blame him when he already felt like shit.

~000~000~000~

"What happened?" Dean asked his brother, pushing himself into a sitting position and leaning back against the pillow.

Waking up and choking on a tube shoved down your throat was not something Dean would recommend.

"You don't remember?" Sam frowned.

"It's a little fuzzy," he admitted. "Where's dad? Hermione?" He wasn't certain why, but at the mention of her name, he suddenly felt sick, disgusted.

"Car accident. Dad's fine," Sam answered. "The work Hermione did on his leg held long enough that the doctors were able to patch him up. He's even up and walking."

"And Hermione?"

Sam hesitated.

"Hermione?" Dean pressed.

"Her injuries, like yours, were severe. She had to go into surgery to have her pancreas repaired and the internal bleeding stopped, from what I understood, everything went fine. She had some head trauma they were worried about but I was able to contact Harry. He was here within half an hour and with an army of magical doctors. They've taken over her room and barred everyone from entering, including us. You know, since we're not supposed to know about magic? The last I heard from him, she's doing well. Her condition's improved massively and with their potions and magic, coupled with the surgeons having already taken care of the internal bleeding and damaged organs as well as the blood transfusion, Harry reckons they're just dealing with the head trauma. She's expected to wake soon and make a full recovery."

Dean released the breath he hadn't realised he was holding.

"It wasn't your fault."

"What wasn't?"

"The accident, it wasn't your fault."

Dean's brow furrowed before his eyes slammed shut and he brought his hands up to his hair, fisting the strands tightly as a pounding headache was called forth, bringing with it flashing, horrifying images. Snippets of what had happened.

"Oh, God. I did this to her," he whispered in horror, feeling bile rise in the back of his throat.

"No, Dean, you didn't," Sam assured him. "It wasn't your fault. I don't blame you, neither does dad or Harry. I told him everything and he doesn't blame you."

"I was the one driving..." He insisted. "If I'd have just slowed down like she'd asked..."

"It wasn't your fault," Sam said forcefully. "Okay, it wasn't. We were hit by a truck. _Purposely_!"

"What?" Dean choked.

"It was a demon, Dean. I saw it. A demon possessed a truck driver and he targeted us. He wanted to kill us. No matter the speed you were driving, he still would've hit us."

"It wasn't my fault?" He pleaded.

"It wasn't your fault," Sam promised. "And she's going to be fine. Come on, you know Hermione. The damn witch was Christmas shopping not twenty-four hours after she was shot." Dean felt his mouth twitch. "She's too stubborn to die. You know she'd never leave you."

Footsteps drew their attention and their father appeared in the doorway, Sam explaining that he was going to find Harry and see what else he could tell them about Hermione's condition, leaving him and their father alone.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine, considering..." Dean shrugged.

"And that girl of yours?"

"Sam said Harry told him the magical doctors think she'll wake soon and she'll be fine."

"That doesn't surprise me, I've never met a more stubborn woman," his father nodded, stepping further into the room. Dean eyed him carefully. Something didn't feel right. "I'm sorry, with this life and everything that's happened... You had to grow up far too fast. And I want you to know I'm proud of you."

"Are you possessed again?" Dean asked cautiously.

"No," his father chuckled, giving his head a shake. "This is me and this is long overdue."

"What's wrong? Why are you saying these things?" Dean frowned in concerned.

Avoiding his questions, he said, "Watch out for Sam."

"Haven't I always?" He arched an eyebrow. "And with Hermione's help, he's more protected than the President. Hell will freeze over before she lets anyone near him. I can't wait until he starts dating again, she'll vet the poor woman until she knows what cereal she eats and who her kindergarten teacher was." His father nodded, offering a smile. "Seriously, what's wrong? You're scaring me."

"Don't be scared."

His father approached and whispered something into his ear, something that Dean struggled to process. And when he blinked, he was gone. Dean stared at the doorway for what felt like hours and when he heard the frantic calls for help, he stood from the bed and moved into the corridor, watching in horror as his father lay on the ground surrounded by nurses and a doctor and Sam was stood a little ways behind. He watched in horror as his the doctor called the time of death.

10:41am.

John Winchester was lost to the world.

His father was dead.

~000~000~000~

**One week later...**

Hermione watched from the doorway with a mug of tea in her hand, Dean tinkering with the Impala and trying to get it in working order as he had been for the last six days, and Sam sitting on the porch steps, a book in his lap but his eyes watching his brother.

It'd been seven days since John Winchester had died. Six days since she'd woken from a coma and been medically cleared and learned of his death. Five days since they'd given him a Hunter's funeral and they'd holed up at Bobby's, the older Hunter allowing them to crowd his house for however long they wished. And no matter how much he complained and grumbled about them always being in his way or getting on his nerves, Hermione knew it was a front. He was trying to act normal, trying to offer normalcy to Sam and Dean after losing their father.

And honestly, she was worried.

She knew Dean, she knew him better than anyone and better than herself. She'd seen him in every situation imaginable, every one situation but this one. The death of a parent. A parent, who she later discovered, gave his life so that Dean might be healed of his injuries and survive.

In the days since John's death, Dean appeared to shut everyone and everything out, focusing solely on the Impala, only taking breaks when she called lunch or dinner, and when it grew past midnight and he climbed into bed beside her (something Bobby didn't protest against, this time, at least) and held her so tightly, she was concerned she'd wake with broken ribs.

If it were Hermione, she'd have just written the car off and bought a new one, but from what Sam had told her, John had gifted Dean the car. It wasn't the car itself, rather what it stood for, what it meant and the memories it held. The ring she wore around her neck, whilst it wasn't worth much, to her it meant everything. Dean had gifted it to her, something he'd had for years and he'd given it to her so that every time she touched it or saw it, she'd be reminded of him and that she wasn't alone.

She wanted to help him but she wasn't certain that was something he'd allow her to help him with. He was bottling his emotions up, putting them far out of reach and soon, Hermione knew he would explode. She knew from experience it was never a good idea to hold back such strong emotions.

Her eyes darted to Sam.

He and Dean had been arguing a lot recently and she'd tried her best to keep out of it, allowing Bobby to step in when the arguments grew heated and it looked as though fists might go flying. Sam was one to bottle up his emotions, as proven when he'd lost Jess. But if she could get him through that, she'd be damned if she didn't get him through this, too.

Sighing, she crossed over to him and sat on the porch step above him, setting the mug beside her before she reached over and folded her arms around his neck, pressing her chin atop his shoulder.

"How you doing today?" She asked softly, her eyes locked on a deeply frowning Dean. He knew he was out of it; he wasn't even paying attention to the little white cat that circled his feet, sensing his pain, offering comfort and trying to get his attention.

Sam shrugged half-heartedly in response.

"You know I'm just as much yours as I am his, right?" Sam arched an eyebrow and looked at her over his shoulder. "Oh, you know what I mean," she huffed.

He chuckled and brought his hands up, folding them around hers and giving a gentle squeeze.

"I know," he nodded, his eyes darted back to Dean, watching him worriedly. "It's like he's not grieving. Like if he doesn't acknowledge it, it didn't happen."

She sighed. "I know. I'm doing my best not to push him but I'm worried, too. Bottling all those emotions... He's going to explode, sooner or later. I know, it's happened to me before, and the outcome wasn't pleased."

Sam hummed, his eyes still on Dean.

He was quiet, too quiet. And that's when it happened. He finally snapped. He'd been waiting seven days for it to happen.

Sam had been expecting it but he hadn't expected for Dean to take a crowbar to the car, releasing his pent up anger and grief as he shattered all the windows, knocked the wing mirrors to the ground and dented the previously repaired hood.

"You should see to him," said Sam.

"And what about you?"

He shrugged uselessly. "Dean's taking this a lot harder than I am. Not only was he closer to dad, but he blames himself."

"He's your father, too, and it's okay to miss him, to grieve, even if he was a shitty father."

His mouth twitched. "Maybe later, but right now, he needs you more than I do. You're the only one that's gonna be able to get him through this."

"This is foreign territory for me," she admitted quietly.

"He doesn't need you to tell him things will get better and that it wasn't his fault, he just needs to know that he has you."

She sighed tiredly. "Okay, I'll handle him and when I'm done, I'll come and find you."

"Don't rush, take your time."

"If you need to, talk to Bobby. He might be able to help more than I, given how close you are. We both know that bottling it all up isn't good for anyone."

After pressing a kiss to his cheek, she unfolded her arms around him, pressed the mug of tea into his hand and then rose to her feet, slowly descending the porch steps and halting to a stop a short distance from Dean. She didn't want to be in the line of fire, knowing Dean would only feel worse if he were to accidentally harm her.

A short while later, all of the fight and anger seemed to suddenly fade and he dropped the crowbar to the ground, his head lowering and his shoulders slumping as he breathed loudly and heavily.

Steeling herself for possible rejection, she approached, her hand coming up to sit on his shoulder, feeling him tense beneath her touch. And when she thought he was going to shrug it off and demand he be left alone, he took her by surprise when he turned to face her, reached out and pulled her against him, feeling the breath being knocked out of her as he buried his face against her neck before she had the opportunity to see it.

Her arms folded around his neck, her hand lightly scratching at the nape of his neck knowing it was something that comforted him and she stood on her tiptoes, pressing her forehead against his shoulder.

"Hold on," she whispered before she reached for her wand beneath her sleeve and apparated them up to her bedroom, landing firmly on her feet.

Dean didn't falter or complain having long since gotten used to the feel of her apparition and after she muttered a Silencing Charm, giving them privacy, her wand fell from her grasp and to the ground when he held her impossibly tighter. And then she felt it.

A wet tear hit the skin of her neck.

The dam burst, Dean's shoulders shaking as he was overcome with silent, uncontrollable sobs. She felt her heart shattering into a thousand pieces, her chest tightening and her throat burning with the effort it took to hold back her own tears. Having lost her own parents, she understood exactly what he was experiencing, both the loss and the guilt. Dean felt guilty not only because his father had given his life for own his, but also because she'd been admitted to hospital due to his actions, even if the accident wasn't his fault, no matter how many times he was told by others he wasn't to blame. He just couldn't shift the guilt. She carried guilt in her heart because her parents had died simply because she existed, and not only had they suffered, but they'd died not knowing of her existence. They both had deaths that weighed on them heavily, no matter of the fact they hadn't been the ones to actually pull the trigger, so to speak.

She wasn't sure how long they stood holding each other but her legs were going numb and Dean's shoulders had stopped shaking but he'd yet to lift his head from her neck. At the very least, she could see that some time had passed as the daylight was slowly fading.

"What was that?" She asked softly, having heard him mutter something but not his actual words.

He drew back from her slowly but didn't release his hold on her and he stared down at her unflinching, unembarrassed and unafraid, something that surprised her. She had seen Dean in many scenarios and the like but she'd only seen him cry twice, both after waking from a nightmare and even then, she wouldn't name it as crying as there'd only been a couple of tears before he fought them off.

But as he stared down at her, his eyes bloodshot and tear-filled, dried tear tracks on his cheeks and his nose looking a little red and sore, she'd never seen him so open with her. Right now, he was showing her everything, baring his soul to her.

"I love you."

Hermione would've fallen over if Dean's hold on her wasn't so tight. If she was honest, whilst Dean opened up to her more than she believed he'd ever done to anyone else before, she didn't think she'd ever hear those words fall from his mouth, but she didn't need to hear them. She already knew. She'd known for months Dean's feelings for her, no matter of what Sam and their father had said. She'd loved Dean barely a few months after agreeing to be his girlfriend and although she'd wanted to say the words to him, she'd always hesitated and refrained, not wanting to overwhelm him or pressure him. He had to be ready to do it in his own time.

"I love you," he repeated, his eyes slowly tracing her face, searching for something in her expression.

She closed her eyes briefly before they fluttered open again, her hands shifting until they held his head and her thumbs swiped over his skin, his eyes falling closed before slowly opening.

"I know, I know you love me. I've _always_ known. You don't need to say the words to verify what I already know, your actions more than speak for you. And I love you, so very, very much that sometimes it hurts, sometimes I find myself so overwhelmed that I can't think or focus on anything but you," she promised.

She understood his sudden need to verbally tell her of his love for her. For months he'd been showing her, whether he knew it or not, but after the war, it wasn't uncommon for people to suddenly, unexpectedly or randomly make declarations of love to their partners, children, family or friends. Merlin knows she told Harry she loved him every day for nearly two years, even if they were the only words she spoke to him in a week, given their busy and separate work schedules. They all made a habit of confessing their love as they'd been shown the harsh truth that anyone could be taken and lost to you before you realised it and regrets were always felt if feelings hadn't been shared beforehand.

"Please, don't ever leave me. Promise me," he begged, his voice cracking as he struggled to finish his plea.

"I promise that I will never willingly leave you. I promise that I am yours forever, and I do so make these vows upon my magic."

A golden glow appeared suddenly, Dean's head turning to glance down at her wrist, seeing a golden strand wind its way around her wrist, forming a band before fading into nothing, only a slight shimmer being seen as it caught the final rays of sunlight before night fell.

"What the Hell was that?" He swallowed, looking back to her eyes.

"I made those vows upon my magic, if I should break one of them, there is a high possibility I might lose my magic as punishment. Or at the very least, it might render me a Squib."

He looked horrified. "I know what I'm doing. Trust me on this."

She did know what she was doing. She loved Dean like she'd never loved anyone before. She loved Dean with every fibre of her being, with her heart, with her soul and with her magic. She trusted him with every part of her, with every whispered secret no matter how innocent or dark. She trusted him with her past, present and future.

She wasn't entirely a believer of soul mates and destiny, but she did believe that everything happened for a reason, she believed that everyone had that one person that was meant solely for them, and she believed that when that person was found, one would know in their heart and their magic. She felt that with Dean. The moment he'd walked into her shop she'd known there was something different about him, and if she was honest, it was the main reason she'd agreed to hunt with him. She could live with the boredom, with the calm and quiet, but at the time, she'd felt she _had_ to go with Dean, she'd felt that he'd lead her to where she needed to be. And that was right by his side.

Harry and Ginny. Molly and Arthur. Her mother and father. Remus and Tonks. Her and Dean. They'd all overcome obstacles to be together. Harry and Ginny, separation and the war. Molly and Arthur, broken marriage contracts. Her mother and father, the age gap and her disapproving Grandparents. Remus and Tonks, his Lycanthropy. Her and Dean. She being a witch and him a Hunter.

They were all _meant_ to be together. She could feel it in the air when around them, that one thing that made them click, that made them perfect for one another and no one else.

Even if he hadn't of wandered into her shop, she was convinced she and Dean would've met through other means. After all, what were the chances that she happened to be close friends with Bobby Singer, the man who was like a second father to him? What were the chances they'd meet at the same motel and that she'd save his life when there were plenty of Hunters in the US? When he was working a case that landed him in that same town as her? When it wasn't often he worked cases at all?

"I know what I'm doing," she repeated.

"I love you... I just needed you to know in case... I would never forgive myself if..."

"I know, I understand, war veteran, remember?" She said softly. "I told Harry I loved him every day for two years after the war, because I was afraid he might be taken from me and I didn't want his last thought to be that I never loved him."

She drew back from him despite his reluctance to let go, but when he saw she was only intending to move to the bed, he released her, allowing her to drag him over to it. After climbing onto the bed and reclining against the pillows, Dean followed, moving to lie beside her, his arms folding around her and his head resting against her chest. Her heart broke for him all over again. Silently, she lifted her hand and ran it through his hair, the other trailing soft patterns on his arm with her fingertips.

"I don't know what to do," he confessed quietly.

"Honestly, Dean. There's nothing you can do. There's nothing I can say or do to make this easier for you, and you know that if I could, I would do it in a heartbeat. And I don't mean to sound harsh when I say this but... He's not coming back. You loved him, he was a shitty father, but you loved him and I think towards the end, he was trying to make it up to you. He's not coming back and you can't change that, so, perhaps don't dwell on the what ifs and the I wish... Celebrate his life and achievements. Celebrate who he was. An arsehole, a shitty father and a badass Hunter who loved face masks and manicures more than he'd willingly admit."

Dean snorted.

"He loved arguments, reading Cosmopolitan Magazine, watching shitty action movies, eating sour candy and I know it was him that ate my pancakes no matter how innocent he thought he was. Honestly, if I'd have had proof, I'd have hexed him bald and made it so he was only capable of fantasizing about donkeys for a month."

Dean gave a laugh, a laugh that morphed into a sob.

"It hurts too much."

She sniffled, fighting back her own tears. "I know, Honey," she whispered. "But you have to feel that pain. Trust me, if you don't, it'll make everything worse. You have to feel it to process it, and processing it leads to understanding, understanding leads to acceptance, and acceptance leads to moving on. Your father wouldn't want this for you, would he? I survived my grief because I had people to help me, and you? You have me and I'm not going anywhere."

~000~000~000~

The door slowly opened, a slither of light from the landing peeking in as Crookshanks and Sadie darted inside, both being quick to leap onto the bed, the white cat snuggling her way in-between her and Dean and Crookshanks laying behind Dean.

He fell asleep some time ago and had yet to move with his head being cushioned on her chest. The moment he'd quieted and his breathing evened out, her tears silently fell. Hours had passed, she wasn't certain on the time, only that it was late and she'd yet to fall asleep.

Domino soon made an appearance, leaping onto the foot of the bed and she was followed by Sam, dressed in pyjama pants and a t-shirt. He poked his head inside and seeing his exhausted expression, she silently patted the space beside her.

He didn't ask if she was certain or comfortable, he just slipped inside and closed the door behind him, moving to sit beside her on the bed. Silently, she took her hand in his, the other resting on Dean's back and she'd rub comforting circles and shush him when he made a distressed noise in his sleep.

When Bobby woke to the use the bathroom in the early hours of the morning, he peeked into the bedroom, seeing Sam propped up against the headboard, his hand held by Hermione's as his sleeping head rested atop hers, as it was pressed against his shoulder. As she slept, Dean lay across her chest, the three Hunters being surrounded by the three cats.

Quietly, he stepped into the room, retrieved the comforter that was folded on the chair in the corner, and he draped it over them before taking his leave.

~000~000~000~

**Three days later...**

Dean was exhausted.

He'd barely left the bedroom since he'd allowed himself the breakdown. The morning after when he woke, he thought he might feel embarrassed, ashamed, uncomfortable, but he didn't.

Hermione didn't pity him, she didn't belittle him or pressure him. She loved him.

He'd suspected, of course. Whilst she'd never said the words before, he was certain she'd had a few near misses, there'd been a few times when she hesitated or paused and then quickly changed her words as though he hadn't noticed it. And he knew it was because of him. She hadn't said the words because she didn't want to pressure or overwhelm him.

Dean didn't process emotion well, never had done, but he had gotten better since meeting her. What happened last night, his breakdown and his confessing of his love for her, that was proof. Before, he hadn't known what to name the things he felt for her, and it wasn't until he lost his father that he realised. He loved her. He'd always loved her. He'd loved her before she'd met Sam and before he'd asked his younger brother what it felt like to love someone.

And he knew she loved him, too. She really did.

After his breakdown, he had no energy. It wasn't that he was being a lazy asshole or that he was wallowing in grief, he just felt tired. Worn out. Drained. And he needed time to process all that had happened, the changes that would need to be made and the plans that needed ironing out for the future.

Hermione barely left his side, something he felt guilty for but something he was also thankful for. When she was nearby, the grief seemed less constricting and tight, like she was helping to carry the weight and lessen the load. She only left his side to prepare meals and use the bathroom, and she was never gone longer than half an hour, and she brought his meals to him so he might eat in the bedroom.

He wasn't stupid either, he knew Sam was having a hard time, he knew that when he was sleeping, Sam would sneak into the bedroom and fall asleep holding Hermione's hand, and he would wake in the morning and sneak out before Dean woke. He knew because he'd spotted the black cat hair on the blanket, and Domino wouldn't be present unless Sam was.

The time Hermione spent with him hidden away, sometimes they sat in silence, sometimes Dean regaled tales of his childhood and the good memories he had of his father, sometimes his emotions swallowed him hole and Hermione just held him and other times she read aloud from a book, the title or content didn't matter to him. He wasn't listening to the words spoken, only that it was her voice, her softly spoken tone that calmed him and made him sleepy. And it was moments like that when he realised how lucky he was to have her, how lucky he was that she'd chosen him.

Hermione was powerful, beautiful, funny, intelligent, kind, fearless and she could have any man she ever wished for. He'd seen it. All she had to do was snap her fingers and men would drop at her feet and she'd have her pick. And still, she'd chosen him. A psychologically damaged fuck up with mommy _and_ daddy issues. Oh yeah, he was a catch.

He still wondered what it was he'd done that made it so she'd chosen him, that made it so she'd decided he would be the one for her, that would make her risk losing her magic in her vowing to never leave him. What the fuck had she been thinking to do something so stupid? But she'd been so confident that she would never leave him, that she would be his forever. And she _had_ said forever. He'd heard it. It repeated in his mind on a loop, just as her words 'I love you' did.

Dean looked to his watch, his brow furrowing. Where was Hermione? She'd been gone at least an hour. She'd never been gone more than half an hour. They'd already had breakfast and it was only a little after ten o'clock. She said she was going to the bathroom and then she'd be back. Where was she?

The door opened and he heaved a sigh of relief, pushing himself up from his stomach and into a seating position and when he turned around to face the door, he froze, his eyes widening in surprise.

He'd expected Hermione. He hadn't expected Hermione to be accompanied by others. Well, that explained why she'd been gone so long. She's snuck off to London.

"Uncle Dean," James began, slowly crossing over to the bed and stopping before him, looking up at him with big, sad eyes. "Aunt 'Mione said Papa John's gone to Heaven."

Dean felt his throat constricting and he swallowed, nodding sharply.

"He has," he tried for being as calm as possible but he choked on the words.

James sniffled before he wrapped his arms around Dean's torso.

Feeling the sting of tears in his eyes, Dean closed them and reached down, lifting James onto his lap, the little boy shifting his arms to wrap around his neck.

"You're sad," whispered James.

"Very sad," Dean admitted, hugging the child against him.

"It's okay to be sad. Daddy gets sad all the time when it's Halloween. That's when my Grandma Lily and Grandpa James went to Heaven. And he gets sad 'coz Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus went to Heaven. And now, Papa John's in Heaven. I bet they're having lots of fun together. Daddy always says they're happy and they're keeping us safe."

His throat tightened and his eyes stung as a tear fell. He didn't have the heart to tell the kid his dad most certainly hadn't gone to Heaven. Selling his soul meant a one-way ticket to Hell.

"I'm sure they are."

"Papa John can teach them to play football and baseball, and my Grandpa James and Uncles Sirius and Remus can teach him how to fly and play Quidditch and show him how to prank people. And my Grandma Lily, she's very good at hexing people, just like my mummy and Aunt 'Mione." Dean gave a muffled sniffle-laugh. "They're having lots of fun, I know they are. Please don't be sad, Uncle Dean. I don't like it when you're sad. I love you."

Dean felt another tear fall.

"I love you, too, Buddy," he whispered.

Feeling a tugging at his t-shirt, he looked down to see Albus staring up at him with his big brown eyes. Silently, he reached down, shifting the younger Potter brother onto his lap until they were both hugging him tightly and another tear fell.

When they drew back, they smiled at him and he laughed when they simultaneously pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheeks. Standing, he dropped them both onto the bed and they laughed and giggled. He wiped his eyes as subtly as he could before he crossed over to Hermione, crouching down and removing the little lady from her car seat.

When he lifted her into his arms, she blinked up at him with her beautiful, large eyes, giving him a gummy smile as she stuffed her fist in her mouth. It had barely been a month since he'd last seen her and he couldn't believe the changes or how big she'd grown. She wore an adorable black dress printed with flowers, the right sleeve soaked with saliva, and she wore white tights, contrasting against the black colouring of the dress.

He rose to full height before turning his eyes to Hermione questioningly.

She smiled. "There is only so much I, Sam and Bobby can do. The rest has to be you, and children can do wonders for healing; they're full of life and joy. They might be what you need to help yourself. I went to London this morning to speak with Harry and Ginny, though given the time difference; I had to visit them at work."

"How long do we have them?"

She smiled, as though she knew he'd liked the answer. "For however long you wish."

He blinked in surprise.

"Ginny wanted to come, too," she added. "She wants to mother you, and now that she's got kids, she's worse than Molly. It's frightening."

Dean snorted and shook his head.

"They staying _here_?"

"Of course," she chirped.

"Does Bobby know?"

"Not yet," she grinned. "He and Sam are out getting groceries."

Dean felt a smirk pull at his mouth.

"That'll be a surprise then. Going to get groceries and coming back to three kids, one who wakes at all hours of the night."

She laughed. "He's going to love it."

"He'll kill you," he corrected.

"Nope, you know how adorable they are, the moment he meets them he'll be won over. And when he sees Lily for the first time, you might have to share her," she teased.

"Not a chance in Hell," he said seriously and she laughed.

Hearing giggles, they looked to the bed, seeing Albus and James whispering between one another before more giggles broke free. When Lily gurgled and fisted his shirt, he lowered his gaze, his eyes locking on hers. And with that stare and the giggles behind him, he felt a little piece of his heart slot back into place.

"Thank you," he said, looking to Hermione. Smile and tipped her head. "I love you."

She blinked before her smile widened. "I know. I love you, too. And we'll get through this. Together. I promise."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 30

**Four days later...**

Dean felt his heart pounding in his chest and thumping in his ears, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he pulled in large inhales of oxygen as quietly as he could. His body was flooded with adrenaline, filled with anticipation.

A breathy giggle sounded and he peered down at the dark head of hair, his mouth twitching at the corners when dark eyes glanced up at him, Dean seeing his joyous smile and pink nose and cheeks. Despite the fact he was bundled up warm and fitted with a Warming Charm under Hermione's insistence, it didn't completely fend off the chill in the air. January was coming to an end, snow coated the ground and it was admittedly quite cold, and Dean was silently glad that Hermione had placed a Warming Charm over him as well as the children, his witch ignoring his protests that he 'didn't need it' and that he'd 'be fine'.

"Shhh," Dean brought his index finger to his mouth in a gesture for the little boy to be quiet, and he nodded vigorously in response, another giggle escaping before the four-year-old slapped his hand over his mouth to contain it.

Dean almost laughed but held it back, not wanting to give away their positioning. He and Albus were crouched down, hidden behind an old car in the maze of vehicles that was Bobby's salvage yard, waiting to either be found or crowned the champions of Salvage Yard Hide and Go Seek. Dean was glad Hermione wasn't playing, knowing the witch would cheat and it'd take hours to find her, only to have the kids come to her defence when he'd accuse her of cheating; it'd happened before.

"Found you!" James called victoriously.

Albus let out a huff of annoyance and crossly folded his arms and Dean laughed as he turned to face the smug six-year-old behind him, seeing him with a beaming grin, his cheeks pink and his gloved-hands sitting on his hips. He was somewhat impressed the little wizard had managed to sneak up on him, too. He hadn't even heard him approach.

"You did," Dean nodded, "Well done, you're very good at this game," he rose to full height and slipped his hands in his pockets, seeking warmth from the cold. He really had to invest in something warmer than a leather jacket. James grinned at the compliment. "Have you found Sammy yet?"

James' grin faltered. "No," he shook his head. "He's too good. I've been looking for ages," he complained.

Dean snorted. "Well, today's your lucky day. I know where he's hiding."

"You do?" He lit up, positively bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

"Yep," he confirmed.

"How?"

"Sammy and I used to come here a lot when we were kids. He liked to play hide and go seek but he always hides in the same place, and I'm betting that's where he is now."

"Awesome, let's go," he grinned, pulling Dean's hand from his pocket and tugging him away from the totalled car.

"Wait for me," Albus called, running to catch up to them, Dean reaching out to steady him when he almost lost his footing and then he slipped his hand around Albus' gloved one.

Having spent so much time at Bobby's growing up, he knew the place like the back of his hand no matter how big or confusing the maze of cars was. But he didn't want either of the boys getting lost, even if Hermione would be able to track their location whilst he navigated the way. Sam had gotten lost one too many times as a kid and it had almost traumatised him until he was old enough to find his own way back to the house. He didn't want that happening to James or Albus.

"I've got an idea," said Dean, seeing that both of the kids peered up at him curiously. "Let's hit him with snowballs."

"That's a great idea," James exclaimed.

"I wanna help," Albus chimed.

"Of course," Dean nodded. "We're almost there. So, we'll make the snowballs, I'll remove the covering and when Sam stands up, we attack."

Dean continued to lead the way through the maze, reaching their destination in a matter of minutes and as they approached, he reminded the boys to be silent before he crouched down and fisted some snow into his bare hands, moulding it into a snowball before putting it off to the side and making another, seeing Albus and James do the same.

Once a pile had been formed, he rose to his feet and quietly approached the rusty, beaten up truck, attempting to make as little noise as possible with the snow crunching beneath his boots. He reached for the sheet of tarpaulin, seeing that the snow that had fallen during the night had been disturbed and that gave Dean the indication that he'd been correct in his assumptions about Sam. As he'd told the kids, Sam used to always hide in the same place no matter how many times they'd played after Sam's begging and Dean giving into him.

Curling his fist around the edge of the sheet, he raised his other hand for the boys to see and he counted down from three on his fingers before he gave a sharp tug, pulling the tarpaulin away from the truck and revealing a startled Sam, hidden in the back of the cargo bed. Dean almost laughed at his expression.

"Found you, Uncle Sam!" Albus and James called.

"Yeah, you did," he agreed, pinning Dean with a glare, knowing he'd led the boys right to him. Dean grinned unapologetically in response.

Sam pushed himself up onto his knees and then climbed to his feet, brushing some snow from his coat that had fallen from the tarpaulin before he leapt off the truck, his boot-clad feet burying in the snow as he landed on the ground. And at this, they attacked, James and Albus laughing loudly as they pelted Sam with snowballs with a surprisingly good aim for their young ages. As Sam gasped and cried out in surprise and betrayal, Dean stood off to the side, his hands in his pockets as he laughed, enjoying the show far too much.

"You little monsters!" Sam cried. "That's it, I've had enough!"

James and Albus shrieked before they abandoned their pile of snowballs and ran back towards the exit of the maze with Sam chasing after them, deliberately leading them in that direction so they wouldn't travel further into the maze. With the weather, it was getting darker earlier in the day and colder as time passed, and they both knew the boys shouldn't be out in the cold for much longer, and so they were being led back towards the house, there being less chance of them getting lost or injured in the dark than if they were in the maze.

Dean slowly followed after them, peering up at the darkening sky and noting the heavy cloud of grey that warned of more snow being expected to fall during the night. Dean liked the snow – when he was inside, where it was warm. He generally avoided going out into the bitter cold as much as possible but he hadn't been able to deny the boys when they'd begged him to go outside with them. That'd been hours ago.

They'd made snow angels, had a snowball fight, gone sledging with the use of the wayward items and materials that littered the salvage yard, attempted to build snowmen but got distracted, gone in search of a Yeti and that led to several rounds of hide and go seek.

As Dean neared the house, the porch lights were on and light streamed from the windows, providing the only light available in the darkness. Although there was evidence of James and Albus having either been rolling in the snow or of Sam having gotten revenge, with some snow still stuck to their clothing and there being wet patches in other areas, they were currently working at completing the snowman they'd started earlier.

"It's looking good, boys," Dean remarked, announcing his presence.

"Yeah?" James looked to him hopefully.

Dean smiled and peered at their creation, it being made of three boulders of snow, the largest being at the bottom and the smallest the top. A length of rope made up the mouth, a wrench, the nose and two rocks, the eyes, but it didn't yet have arms.

"The best snowman I've ever seen."

James grinned at him.

"Okay, boys," Hermione called, stepping out of the house and onto the porch, "Dinner's almost ready, come in, get dried off and get cleaned up."

James and Albus looked a little disappointed but they also looked to be excited for dinner, and after James removed his hat and scarf and they were draped over the snowman, he and Albus bustled towards the house and up the stairs of the porch, Hermione halting them in their steps before they got any further.

"Coats and shoes off before entering the house," she reminded with the boys both removing their wellies and coats, leaving them in their thick socks, jumpers and jeans before they headed inside.

Sam followed behind, removing his coat and boots under Hermione's glare and then he traipsed after the boys to make sure they washed their hands before dinner.

"How are you, Honey?" Hermione asked as he climbed the stairs.

"Cold," he almost pouted.

Her mouth pulled into a smile. "And you thought I was being overly cautious when I insisted on the Warming Charm," she reached up and bopped him gently on the nose with the pad of her index finger before she turned and disappeared into the house.

Dean rolled his eyes, not wishing to admit she was right, and then he removed his boots and leather jacket, setting his shoes on the mat by the door with the rest of them and hanging his leather jacket up on the coat rack before closing the door behind him, shutting out the cold and sealing in the warmth.

He headed for the kitchen, feeling the warmth radiating from the oven and smelling the freshly baked bread rolls whilst Hermione pottered about and Bobby sat at the magically enlarged table, a book held in one hand whilst Lily lay in his other arm, quietly kicking her feet and moving her fists. He leaned back against his chair, one leg bent at the knee whilst his ankle sat atop the other leg comfortably.

When Sam and Bobby had returned with groceries, the latter had been so shocked by what met him that Dean worried he might've been having a heart attack. He hadn't spoken for a quarter of an hour and whilst Sam greeted the kids and kept them entertained in the living room, he, Hermione and Bobby convened in the kitchen with Dean refusing to give Lily up.

Once Bobby had gotten over the shock, he'd levelled Hermione with a glare so deadly, Dean was certain it would kill a demon. He'd protested and whispered-hissed his objections and disapproval, not wishing the kids to stay at his house – 'he _hates_ kids', had been his words.

Hermione had remained quiet and allowed him to run out of steam, and once he'd given his final declaration that the kids could absolutely _not_ stay at his house with them, Hermione merely arched an eyebrow and with a knowing smirk, she took Lily from a reluctant Dean and settled her in the grumpy Hunter's arms without warning. The moment his eyes locked on Lily's, he was done for. Dean saw it.

He hadn't protested since.

It'd been four days.

Bobby quickly grew used to having the kids running about the house and begging him to read to them or play games or tell stories, and there was always a fight over whose turn it was to feed Lily or hold her. As much as he hated sharing the little lady, Dean could compromise as he'd seen a change in Bobby, and it was something different compared to the way he was with Hermione. He didn't appear to be as... Grumpy, burdened, hard.

"Perfect timing," Hermione smiled at him from her place by the oven. "Set the table for me?"

Dean nodded and moved to collect the bowls and spoons that she'd left on the counter and he brought them over to the table, placing one of each before each chair, there being six in total. He then took a seat, eyeing Bobby, wondering if he'd pass over Lily if he asked. No, he wouldn't. He'd never seen the man look so calm and peaceful, not when Lily made a gurgling noise and it drew Bobby's attention from his book. He peered down at her with a small smile, his eyes crinkling and he made a cooing noise in response before he gently rocked her and turned his gaze back to the pages. Dean had thought getting used to how Bobby interacted with Hermione was hard, but it was nothing compared to what he'd witnessed over the last few days.

"Boys, dinner's ready," Hermione called.

Quick footfalls soon sounded, bounding down the stairs and into the kitchen, James taking a seat on Dean's right whilst Albus sat directly opposite him and beside Bobby, the little boy trying to peer at the words of his book. Snorting, Bobby shifted in his seat before tilting the book towards Albus, knowing that he wouldn't be able to read the words but he liked to be nosey.

When Sam entered, he took the seat on Albus' right and Hermione levitated a large, steaming pot over to the table and set it in the centre along with a basket of bread rolls.

"Be very careful, it's hot," she warned, stopping Albus from reaching towards it. "Let your Uncles do it."

She turned and headed for the fridge, removing four beers and two juice boxes before placing them beside their intended owners, and she turned her attention to convincing Bobby to give Lily up long enough so they might all eat dinner together. He put up a fight, muttering threats beneath his breath so the kids wouldn't hear, but Hermione ultimately won, taking the seventeen-week-old baby away and placing her in the transfigured cot that was by the table so they might still keep an eye on her.

Sam dished out the stew and dumplings for himself and Albus, and then Dean did so for himself and James, it being followed by Bobby grumpily selecting his own portion and then Hermione, and when everyone was equipped with a bread roll, they tucked into the hot meal, perfect for the cold weather and after a day spent outside in the snow.

Dean knew there'd be some leftover; Hermione had been making bigger portions, regardless of the fact she was feeding two extra mouths. She'd started doing so as it allowed her to freeze the leftovers and leave them for Bobby, so he might warm them up at a later date. She was worried about his health and he didn't have the best of diets; the only healthy meals he ate were the ones she cooked for him, hence the reason she sent him lasagnes and shepherd's pies as often as she could, but with the cooking she'd been doing over the last two weeks, Bobby should have enough pre-cooked meals to last him a couple of weeks by the time they were ready to leave.

As chatter picked up at the table, they all ate comfortably, going back for a second helping before dessert was brought out, chocolate cake and custard, the kids' favourites.

After dinner, Sam offered to do the dishes no matter the fact Hermione insisted a simple spell could save them the time, and the boys were sent upstairs to have a bath and get ready for bed. Once they were dressed, they all convened in the living room, Bobby on his armchair, Sam, Hermione and Dean on the couch with the latter feeding Lily her bottle, and James and Albus were sprawled on the ground in a pile of blankets, staring up at the TV whilst they watched a movie.

Dean glanced around, feeling comfort in the way Bobby read his book, as Sam was convinced to lie on the ground with the kids as they watched the TV, as Lily silently slept on his chest, her little hands fisted into his shirt, and Hermione was tucked into his side, her feet tucked beneath her with a blanket over her lap, her gaze darting between the kids and the TV.

This was something he could get used to. Very used to. And he was going to miss it. He wasn't an idiot, as much as he'd loved being with the kids, as much as he'd loved having them there and as much as he didn't wish for them to go, they weren't his kids, sooner or later they had to go home to their parents. They had to get back on the road and they had to find the yellow-eyed demon and deal with him once and for all, especially before they lost anyone else to him. His mother, his father and his brother's girlfriend had already been taken and he wasn't willing to risk anyone else.

Only then could he think on his future with Hermione, and dare he dream, perhaps with a kid or two of their own.

Feeling Hermione's gaze, he peered down at her, looking to her questioningly when he noticed her contemplative expression, perhaps even apprehensive.

"Can we talk?"

He tried not to let himself worry or panic. Those were the dreaded words in any relationship, weren't they? Or at least, something similar.

He nodded silently in reply, lifting his wrist so he might peer down at his watch as he checked the time.

"I think it's the boys' bedtime anyway," he remarked.

"It is," she agreed. "I'll get them settled and then we can talk." Hermione slipped out from under the blanket and stood from the couch. "Okay, boys, it's bedtime," she told them, receiving groans of complaint in response. "Yes, we've already let you stay up later than you're supposed to. Come on, up you go," she clapped her hands.

They both grumbled but rose to their feet and trudged up the stairs and to Hermione's bedroom, both climbing under the blanket that covered the blow-up mattress that sat on the floor by the wall. She and Dean followed after them and whilst Hermione sat on the ground and busied herself with reading a story to the kids, Dean moved to lay Lily on the bed he shared with Hermione, expertly changing her clothing and diaper, though with her being asleep, it was a lot easier than when she was awake and wiggling about. Once she was ready for the night, he set her in the cot that was by the side of the bed and then took a step back, peering over his shoulder to see that the kids had already dozed off and Hermione was readjusting the blanket over them.

Reaching for the baby monitor, Dean plucked it off the bedside table and then he and Hermione stepped out of the room, leaving the door open a little before they headed downstairs. In some moment of unspoken agreement, Hermione crossed to the door and slipped on her boots and coat whilst Dean handed the monitor to Sam, his brother simply nodding and not asking any questions.

Once Dean had pulled on his own boots and leather jacket, Hermione fitted them both with a Warming Charm and they stepped out into the freezing cold night, Dean feeling a little better when Hermione took his hand in hers. That was a good sign, right?

They wandered aimlessly and in silence until they reached the maze of cars and Dean absentmindedly led them towards the old beaten up truck that Sam favoured as a hiding place. When Hermione took in the sight of it, she nodded to herself before she released his hand and then climbed up into the cargo bed, conjuring two thick blankets and two large cushions, fitting them both with a Warming Charm, as well. She set one on the floor to help fend off the cold, and once Dean had climbed up and took a seat beside her, she slotted a cushion behind each of them and draped the second blanket over them, Dean being grateful for the heat it offered.

"So," he swallowed, not being able to take the silence or nerves any longer. "You wanted to talk?" He prompted.

"I did," she nodded. "Actually, I just wanted to check in with you, without Sam, Bobby or the kids being around and interrupting."

"That's all?" He blinked in surprise.

"Yes," her forehead creased. "Why? Were you expecting something else?"

"No," he denied, hiding his show of relief.

"Okay then... So, I haven't been 'checking in' with you because I wanted to give you some space and time for yourself, which I know is hard given that the kids are here and there's never a moment of peace, but well," she shrugged, "How're you doing?"

"Better," he confessed.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, better," he nodded, his hand reaching for hers under the blanket, feeling the warmth returning to her skin. "You know I don't handle this kind of thing well, emotions and feelings, I can admit that..." He paused, searching for the words he wished to say. "I know it's only been a couple of weeks, but you were right. It does get easier, and those kids have helped a lot. They've been the distraction that I needed."

She smiled at him softly, giving his hand a squeeze.

"He wouldn't want us to be sad, he'd want us to find the bastard demon and get justice for mom. And as much as I've loved having the kids here, I think it's time we got back on the road."

"Yeah, me too," she agreed. "I'll give Harry a call in the morning and arrange a time I might drop them off at home. Once we've gotten back to work and we've figured out a way to find the demon, and we will," she said confidently, "Then we'll see about spending some time in London for a little breakaway. We might even be able to convince Bobby to come with us."

Dean snorted. "Now that he's met Lily, I doubt he'll put up much of a fuss, especially at Christmas when you demand that he joins us."

She grinned in response. "There's not a heart she can't melt, our Lily." Her gaze lowered to her lap, her bottom lip being caught teeth.

"What is it?" He asked, sensing she was keeping something from him, or at least, there was more she wished to say.

"I have something for you," she responded, peering up at him anxiously. "I've been working on it for a while, actually. But it didn't feel like the right time to give it to you considering all that's happened over the last couple of weeks. It was actually for your... Well, for your birthday."

"My birthday?" He echoed, somewhat confused.

"Yes," she nodded once. "I had it all planned and ready to give it to you, but then..."

"My dad," he supplied.

"Exactly, and you were grieving and I didn't want to intrude or overwhelm you further."

"You can give it to me now."

"You're sure?" She checked.

"Yeah, I've gotta admit, you've got me curious. I can't remember the last time I celebrated my birthday."

"That changes from now on," she smiled tentatively before drawing her hand away from his and plucking her wand from beneath her sleeve, only for her to give it a wave and a small box appear in her lap. Reaching for it, she enlarged it and then held it out to him in offering.

He took it from her, noting the coolness of the black metal tin as he set it in his own lap. His eyes darted to her, seeing that she'd shifted so her legs were folded and she sat facing him rather than directly sitting beside him, and she appeared to be wringing her hands in the fabric of the blanket.

Her uncharacteristic nervousness only fuelled his curiosity and he made to open the lid before he noted the keyhole.

"This is it," she held out the small silver key to him. "I've charmed the box, it can only be opened with the key. It's theft and destruction proof, even against fires, bullets and weight."

Dean knew she wouldn't do something like that unless there was something important hidden inside the box.

Taking the key from her, he slotted it into the keyhole and turned it, hearing the 'click' of the mechanism and seeing the slight pop of the lid as it opened. Once he pushed it open further and allowed it to fall back to the hinges, he felt his eyes widen and his breath catch as he took in the contents that littered the box. It was bigger on the inside, that was for certain.

He noted a handful of items first; his father's watch and the wallet Hermione had bought him, his father's dog tags, and his Bronze Star and Purple Heart medals that he'd received during his time in the Marine Corps.

He also saw a small scrapbook and he reached for it, opening up the first page to see a photograph of his parents on their wedding day. The second page held a photograph of his parents and himself as a baby, and the third page a photograph of himself, his parents and Sam as a newborn. From there, he saw pictures of mostly himself and Sam as they grew up, most of them taken whilst at Bobby's when his father hadn't been around. But then the photos changed, including Hermione, Bobby and the kids, including a magical photo that had sneakily been taken at the Burrow when they'd visited for Christmas, showing him, his father and Sam sharing a beer by the fireplace.

He looked at Hermione in surprise.

"How?" He stuttered.

"Bobby helped," she smiled softly. "I mean, I'd only made you a scrapbook so you'd have a reminder of your family, a reminder that you're not alone and that you are loved. But then we lost your father and I decided to make you a keepsake box, so you wouldn't lose the things most precious to you. Some of the photos were taken from that chest we got from your old house in Lawrence, Bobby had a few of you and Sam growing up, and the most recent ones were taken by me or Sam. As for your father's things, his medals and dog tags, Bobby had them stored in his safe; your father gave them to him to hold onto years ago. Apparently, not everything was initially destroyed in the house fire as you were led to believe. Your father was able to retrieve a few of his undamaged possessions."

"I..." He swallowed, feeling the tightening of his throat and the stinging in his eyes. "I don't know what to say," he muttered, at a loss for words.

He couldn't believe she'd done this for him. Made something that held so much meaning. That protected the things of his past, things he hadn't even known about.

His eyes were drawn to the box once more, this time noticing the black velvet box that sat in the corner, easily blending in. Unsure of what he might find inside, he hesitantly reached for it and opened it, revealing a cream silk cushion that sat a white gold band with a solitaire diamond fitted in the centre.

Dean lifted his gaze to Hermione, seeing her soft expression.

"It was your mother's," she explained, her words spoken so softly they almost sounded like a whisper. Dean swallowed. "Once your parents married, she only wore her wedding ring, being too afraid she might lose her engagement ring given how much it had cost at the time."

His mouth went dry.

He didn't have anything of his mother's. It'd been so long since her death and he'd been so young that he could barely remember her. He hadn't seen a photo of her in years, not until that night.

But now, he had his mother's engagement ring. He didn't even know she'd had one, he'd always assumed it had been buried with her. Where had Hermione gotten it? Bobby, he presumed, just as his father had apparently given Bobby some things to keep safe, he'd obviously done the same with his mother's engagement ring.

Dean's eyes flittered to Hermione's hands fisted in the blanket, more specifically her left hand, spying the ring-free ring finger before he lifted his gaze to her eyes, to the ring and back again.

"And Sammy?" He heard himself ask, unable to miss the roughness of his voice. It wasn't fair that he be given something of his mother's and Sam went without.

"There's a silver bracelet," she told him. "One your father gifted your mother when Sam was born, Bobby and I thought it best that he get the bracelet and you be given the ring. That way you both have a piece of her."

Dean's eyes closed tightly and his jaw clenched, and when he felt a tear streak down his cheek, a warm hand settled over it.

"Hey," Hermione muttered, encouraging him to open his eyes, Dean seeing his own emotions reflected on her face. She'd shifted onto her knees, the blanket pooled in a mess by her side, one hand cupping his face and the other searching for his free hand.

"Thank you." His voice was thick and gravelly, filled with emotion. "I didn't even know this stuff existed."

"Your father let slip when he was drunk, and when we got here after leaving the hospital, I spoke to Bobby. When he found out what I was doing, he offered to help."

"I honestly don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out," she promised.

"You're the only reason I've held myself together. The kids have helped, but it was mostly you. You're the one that got me through the most difficult part of it. It's you. It's always been you. I wish I met you sooner."

His eyes searched hers for a moment before he snapped the ring box shut, set it in the box and then placed that off to the side, all without taking his eyes from hers.

"I love you."

She smiled. It was getting easier for him to say those words to her.

"I know. I love you, too."

His mouth descended on hers, his hands moving to bury in her hair and he gently guided her backwards, the blanket beneath them and a cushion sitting beneath her head, both propping it up and offering comfort. He settled himself over her, in the cradle of her thighs, his body pressing against hers whilst he absentmindedly pulled the discarded blanket over them both, trapping the warmth of their bodies.

His mouth skimmed across her cheek and down her throat, his face burying against her neck, nudging her coat aside as he pressed his lips to her skin.

"We don't have to do this," she interrupted.

He drew back, peering down at her. "It's been weeks," he reminded, feeling his mouth twitch in fond sadness when he remembered the incident of Hermione's outrage at being so frustrated and his father's teasing.

That would never happen again.

"We don't have to do this," she repeated.

"I know. But I want this, I need you. I've missed you."

"I don't want this to be your way of dealing with things."

"It's not," he promised. "And neither is alcohol or drugs," he added, knowing that even in his grief he hadn't consumed more than a few beers in a single night. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually been drunk. And if his father's death hadn't pushed him to that, he didn't think anything would. Not when he had Hermione to keep him grounded, to help share the burden. "I've honestly just missed being with you."

She observed him closely, her hands sat on the back of his neck, her nails lightly scraping at his skin in that comforting way only she could manage and provide.

"I'm pretty sure it's going to snow soon."

He smiled down at her. "Well, the kids are in our room, the kitchen and living room are off the table, someone's bound to need the toilet if we sneak into the bathroom, or they'll stumble on us in the study. The only other option is the basement."

"Where a demon was exorcised and a human died? No, thanks." He chuckled at her. "I supposed I could erect a barrier to keep the snow from falling on us, should it happen."

His mouth twitched. "That's not the only thing you can erect," he said slyly.

"Are you trying to turn me on or off?"

He laughed, his face buying in her neck as he breathed in her comforting scent of apples.

"This ain't working for ya?"

"Definitely not," she confirmed.

"Then I best get to work. I've a lot of making up to do."

~000~000~000~

"We've got nothing. No leads, no clues, not a single idea about where we should head next, or what our next course of action should be, and we lost the Colt. Our only leverage," Dean sighed, brushing his hand through his hair before taking a hearty swig of his coffee. "Boys, I hope you're being good in there!" He called.

"We are, Uncle Dean! Promise!" James called back.

"I don't believe him," he remarked, having seen the mischief the Potters could get up to.

"I'll check on them," Bobby grumbled, shifting Lily in his hold before he stood from the table and headed into the living room.

"It's horrifying," Sam's nose scrunched up, referring to Bobby's highly uncharacteristic behaviour towards the Potter children. He'd thought it had been hard when he'd seen him with Hermione for the first time, but it didn't compare to what he'd witnessed over the last few days. "Anyway, I was going through some of dad's stuff," he started with Dean eyeing him oddly at the revelation as he withdrew a phone from his pocket. "It's an old burner phone..." Sam paused as Hermione stepped into the kitchen, looking frazzled.

"Spoke to Harry?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," she nodded, "But you go first," she nodded to Sam as she took a seat beside Dean, taking the mug of tea that he held out to her in offering.

"As I was telling Dean, I was going through dad's stuff and I found an old burner phone. I decided to check the voicemail and I found this..."

_'Hey, John, it's Ellen... Look, don't be stubborn; you know I can help you. Call me.'_

"Ellen?" Hermione's nose crinkled. "Who the Hell's Ellen?"

"Don't know," Sam shrugged before he and Hermione looked to Dean expectantly.

"It's not a name I've heard him mention," his brow furrowed in thought, trying to recall if he'd ever heard his father mention the name in passing.

"Well, she obviously knows who your father is," Hermione pointed out. "She called him by his name, not any of his aliases. And she said she could help him? Help him with what?"

"That's the question," Sam agreed. "The message is from four months ago, before we met up again."

"So how do you want to proceed? Call the number back?"

"Tried that, no answer. Give me some time and I'll see if can track down an address for this mystery woman," he pointedly tapped his fingers against his laptop that sat off to the side on the table.

"Work your magic, Sammy," Dean encouraged, watching as his brother pulled his laptop over to him and then powered it up, quickly being sucked into his task. "So, Harry?" Dean prompted, looking to Hermione.

"Yeah, I know you wanted to be on the road as soon as the kids were dropped off, but we might have a bit of a problem," Hermione looked sheepish and frazzled.

"Why?"

"Well, Harry's been unexpectedly sent out of the country for work, somewhere in Peru, he couldn't give me the specifics. He's not expected back for several days, possibly a week."

"And Ginny?" He pressed knowingly, already having a feeling he knew what she was going to say.

"Training boot camp, she's not due back for a few days. Did I tell you she's retiring after this year? Anyway, aside from knowing that you needed the kids here, it's one of the reasons they sent them back with me, knowing that Ginny was going to be gone and although Harry had taken time off from work to watch them whilst she was away, there was always a chance he'd be called into the office. Apparently, there's some big Level 4 classification trafficking ring they're trying to crack down on."

"Huh?" Sam lifted his gaze from his computer screen questioningly.

"Magical beings and creatures. Trafficking of any classification above Level 3 is illegal, as for the lower classification levels, permits are needed. There's five classifications in total, ranging from boring and harmless to a fate worse than death."

"And what's Level 4?"

"Griffins, Occamys, Runespoors, Kappas, Erkings, things like that."

Sam blinked slowly. "Out of the ones you've just listed, I've only heard of one. And I can't believe it exists."

"It does, I'll find a book out for you," she promised, sipping from her tea before she drew her wand and tapped it to the rim of her mug, reheating it.

"So, Harry and Ginny are both out of town and aren't due back for a few days?" Dean brought attention back to their previous topic of discussion.

"That's it."

"So there's no one to watch the kids? What about Molly and Arthur?"

"Arthur's at work and Molly's already got her hands full with Bill's kids. He and Fleur were sent to Indonesia. I know she raised seven children, but at her age, it's not fair to add another three onto her plate. And, of course, everyone else already has their own children and jobs to worry about."

"We're the only ones available," Dean surmised.

"Yep," she popped the 'p'. "It's part of being the favourite Aunt and Uncle," she nudged him with her shoulder and he snorted. "I mean, they're no bother, well, not at the moment, at least. But I told Harry we need to get back on the road, and with him knowing everything that's currently going on, he understands that we've got a job to do and we need to get a move on."

"And?" He prompted.

"He said we could take them with us," she shrugged one shoulder.

"Take the kids _hunting_? Is he insane?!" Dean's eyes widened and his voice rose slightly.

Hermione snorted. "A little, but we're all a bit unhinged after the War; it's hard to come out of something like that unscathed," her gaze fell to the table and her voice grew sullen before she gave her head a shake and perked up once more. "He knows we won't let anything happen to the children and that we'll keep them far away from anything dangerous or suspicious. At the moment, it seems as though we're just trying to track down this Ellen, I can't imagine there being any danger in that."

"You've jinxed it, you said the forbidden phrase," Sam injected.

"Focus," she chided, seeing him childishly stick his tongue out at her. "We can't leave the children here with Bobby, and I don't want to stay back with them in case you need my magic on your side. It might be a little difficult travelling with a baby and two small children, but I'm sure we can handle it. It's not as if we're actively working on a case."

"And there's the second forbidden phrase," chimed Sam.

"Shut it, you," she scowled at him.

Dean sighed. He really didn't like the idea of taking the kids with them, of potentially putting them in danger, but there was no other options available and they'd just have to do their best to ensure they were kept far away from anything potentially dangerous, and he hoped that they didn't pick up a case until after the kids had gone back to London.

"We don't even have a car," he grumbled, regretting the damage he'd done to the Impala when he'd taken his frustrations out on it with a crowbar.

"We'll figure something out," Hermione said, unconcerned. "And with a little spellwork, they'll be plenty of space to fit us, the kids and the cats. Or should we leave them here? If we're going to speak to this Ellen as soon as possible, there's not enough time to fix the car up, so we'll have to return at some point, right?"

"We take them with us," Dean decided. Even if they were only gone for one day before they returned to Bobby's until the kids went home, it didn't feel right leaving them behind. Despite not being a wizard, Sadie was Dean's familiar and he'd grown to understand Hermione's unwillingness to be parted from Crookshanks now that he had his own. "They'll watch out for the kids and alert us to something being off."

"What's going on in here?" Bobby asked, stepping into the kitchen with Lily in his arms. He'd had a hold of her for most of the morning, refusing to put her down and glaring at anyone that tried to take her from him. "So, you need a car?" He surmised after they'd finished explaining their plans to him.

"Yeah," Dean nodded.

He didn't like the way Bobby's mouth twitched into a smirk.

"I have just the thing."

He didn't like it at all.

~000~000~000~

Dean had never felt so humiliated in all of his life.

Glowering, his hands tightened on the steering wheel and his eyes remained forward, pointedly ignoring his sniggering brother and Hermione's amusement as they headed for Rural Nebraska.

"It's not funny," he complained, lifting his eyes to the rearview mirror and locking gazes with Hermione who sat behind him.

"'Course not, Honey," she smiled innocently and he scowled before turning his gaze forward, back to the road.

They'd been on the road for hours and Dean was only glad they were nearing their destination. It hadn't taken Sam long to find an address and a name, Ellen Harvelle, and once they'd packed up and were able to wrestle Lily from Bobby, he'd handed them a set of keys to a working minivan he had stored on the salvage yard.

_A damn minivan!_

Little was required of Hermione and her magic, if only a Cleaning and Comfort Charm before they'd all clambered in and left Bobby's. But just to be on the safe side and with the snow and ice on the ground, she'd charmed the tyres of the minivan, reducing the potential risk of a crash, of getting stuck in the snow or of losing control of the steering. And with the coldness and the heater not working, she'd cast a series of Warming Charms both on the seats and inside, ensuring it was nice and warm for the kids.

With Dean driving, Sam took the passenger's seat with Hermione sitting in the middle of the seats behind him, Albus on her left and Lily on her right. James sat on the row behind with the three cats contently dozing on either side of him, and the boys were kept entertained with the portable DVD players Hermione had given them for Christmas whilst Lily mostly slept.

They'd stopped at a diner for lunch and a bathroom break before clambering back into the minivan with the boys soon falling asleep.

"According to the map," Sam began, "We'll be there in ten minutes."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief; he wasn't sure how much longer he could take driving the minivan.

"Good," he grumbled, falling silent until he spotted their intended destination up ahead.

Pulling to a stop, they all peered out the windows, looking up at the rundown building that appeared to be no more than a wooden shack, the sign above reading 'Harvelle's Roadhouse'.

"Lovely place," Hermione remarked sarcastically and they snorted at her.

"I feel like a frigging soccer mom," Dean complained after climbing from the driver's side, opening the door to help Hermione out whilst Sam walked around the minivan to meet them on the driver's side.

"Hate to break it to you, Honey, but..." She paused, gesturing inside the minivan to where they could see the three Potters quietly snoozing.

Dean glowered and Sam sniggered.

"We've no idea what we're walking into so you wait out here with the kids," Dean suggested.

"Will do," she agreed with a single nod, leaning back against the minivan and folding her arms, making herself comfortable. "At least there's no snow," she remarked, unlike in Sioux Falls where the ground was covered.

"But it's still cold," Sam pointed out, giving a shiver when the wind picked up.

She rolled her eyes. "Hurry up, will you? The boys won't be asleep for long and if they wake before you get back, they'll be no stopping them from following after you. Out in the open, you know I can't use my usual _tricks_."

"We'll be as quick as we can," Dean promised.

Hearing Lily make a noise, Hermione climbed back into the minivan to see if she was awake, in the process of waking or merely shifting in her sleep, and as she did so, Sam and Dean approached the building with Sam calling out to check if anyone was around, and Dean peered through the windows, seeing nothing but darkness.

"Did you bring the...?"

Sam barely blinked before throwing the lock picking kit towards him and catching it, Dean moved to the door, jimmying it open in record time.

"Trying to prove a point?" Sam arched an eyebrow, pointedly gesturing towards Hermione with a tip of his head. They hadn't required the need for their lock picking skills in months, not when they had Hermione who could do so with a simple flick of her wand, not only in a matter of seconds but without leaving any potential trace or evidence behind as well.

"Still got it," he shrugged before opening the door and slowly stepping inside, his eyes immediately scanning his surroundings and knowing Sam was doing the same behind him.

Despite the outward appearance, the inside, although looking rundown and well-worn, was cleaner than they'd expected. And as they stepped further into the building, they realised it was a bar with the coolers behind the counter, a number of tables sat on the floor, a jukebox in the corner close towards the entrance, and further across the room was a raised platform that sat a pool table.

Sharing a glance, he and Sam approached, noting the unconscious heap that lay sprawled on the surface.

"Hey, Buddy?" Dean called in an attempt to wake it in hopes of getting answers, but he received no response.

"I'm guessing that isn't Ellen," Sam commented.

"No," Dean confirmed.

Sighing, Sam walked further into the bar and Dean climbed off the platform and moved closer towards the counter, hearing the distinct sound of a rifle being loaded and feeling the nozzle being pressed into his lower back.

If he died, Hermione was going to kill him. But whoever it was, props to them for sneaking up on him.

"You know, if you're going to pull a rifle on someone," he began, holding his hands up as instructed, "You really shouldn't put it against their back."

In a move that clearly took the rifle wielder by surprise, he spun on his heel and easily took it from their grasp, reapplying the safety, unloading it and holding it out of reach, only for the short blonde to deliver a jab to his nose (one that Hermione would be proud of) and retake the rifle.

Okay, he shouldn't have underestimated her, he admitted.

"Sammy! Could use some help in here!" He called, pressing the palm of his hand to his stinging nose.

"Sorry, Dean," Sam appeared from the swinging door that led to the kitchen, his hands sat atop his head. "I'm a little tied up." Behind him was an older redhead, holding him at gunpoint.

There were two of them?

"Wait, Sam and Dean?" Said the redhead, looking between them both cautiously. "Winchester?"

"Yeah," Dean said gruffly.

"John Winchester's boys?"

"Yeah," he and Sam chorused.

"Oh, hey, I'm Ellen," she offered in greeting with a laugh, lowering her weapon but looking far from apologetic. "This is my daughter, Jo," she introduced, nodding to the young, pretty blonde.

"Hey," she offered, lowering her rifle.

"You're not gonna hit me again, are you?" He asked. "Because, honestly, my girl will be pissed."

Sam snorted as he lowered his arms to his side and Jo tipped her head, analysing him carefully.

"Who's the corpse?"

"That's Ash," Ellen answered with a slight wave of her hand, gesturing towards him.

"We're here because we found your voicemail on one of our dad's phones," Sam took the lead. "You said you could help him? With what, exactly?"

"The demon, of course," Ellen Harvelle answered as if it should've been obvious. "I heard he was closing in on it."

He and Sam shared a glance. She knew?

"Where is your father? I haven't heard from him in a while."

"He died two weeks ago. Demon."

"Oh," Ellen blinked in surprise. "I'm sorry, boys," she offered, appearing sympathetic.

Shaking her head, she switched on the lighting in the room and headed behind the bar, pulling two beers free from one of the coolers, one for herself and one for her daughter.

"What can I get you? On the house."

They shared a glance before ordering the same.

"You know about the demon?" Dean questioned, moving to take a seat on one of the stools by the counter as Jo rounded it, standing beside her mother. "The one we're looking for?"

"Your father was very interested in it," she nodded. "Was it him?"

Dean knew what she was asking. "Yeah."

She sighed. "I guess it got to him before he could take it out. He was so stubborn," she shook her head.

Dean made to speak but paused when he heard the text tone of his phone. Reaching into his pocket and drawing it back, he flipped it open to read the text.

 _Incoming_.

Dean's eyes darted to the door in panic.

"Shit!" He grumbled, the mother and daughter looking to him questioningly. "Hide your weapons."

"What?" They both blinked in confusion.

"Hide them, quickly!" He ordered, hearing the fast footfalls approaching, and just as they placed their guns out of sight behind the bar, the door was thrown open.

"Uncle Dean!"

Dean let out a sigh of relief when James and Albus bounded inside and made a beeline for him.

"Slow down, you'll fall," he warned, reaching out to steady them both.

"Sorry, I tried to stop them but I was outnumbered," Hermione's voice flittered to his ears and he lifted his gaze, seeing her stepping into the bar with Lily's car seat gripped in her hand and a bag thrown over her shoulder. Dean spied the mother-daughter duo's eyes darting between the kids and Hermione in both surprise and curiosity. "It seems that nap was a bad idea, they've re-energised."

Dean snorted and gave his head a shake. "It might not've been safe," he chided.

"I figured it was," she shrugged. "Firstly, there were no signals that set the cats off, and secondly, there were no gunshots, and you've been in here a while, so really, it's your fault the kids are awake. I told you it wouldn't be long," she defended. "Anyway, hi, I'm Hermione," she introduced herself, coming to a stop beside Dean and offering a friendly smile to Ellen and Jo, determining them friendly given that he and Sam were sharing a beer with them. "I'm Dean's girlfriend."

The two women tipped their heads.

"Sorry about the kids," she apologised, offering a sheepish smile. "But wherever Dean goes, they like to follow. I don't suppose you have a bathroom, do you? The boys are adamant they can't wait."

"We do," Ellen confirmed, peering over the counter and down at the Potter boys, seeing the way they hid behind Dean shyly. "Down the corridor, to the left."

"I'll take them," Sam offered and Hermione smiled in thanks. "Come on then, little monsters," he held his hands out with Albus and James taking them and following him to the bathroom.

"Your father never mentioned kids or a girlfriend?" Ellen arched an eyebrow.

Dean smiled up at Hermione, his arm slotting around her waist as he offered her his beer. She peered up at the clock, seeing that it was late afternoon and deeming it not too early, she took a swig before handing it back to him.

"Yeah, we've been together almost a year," he gave Hermione an adoring look. "But dad didn't know about Hermione until recently. They got off to a rocky start but soon worked things out."

"Rocky start?" Jo prompted.

"He was an arsehole," Hermione offered simply. Ellen and Jo snorted.

"And she punched him in the face, twice. On their first meeting. Bust his lip and his nose," Dean added.

"He deserved it," she argued.

Ellen's mouth twitched, almost looking proud.

"Speaking of noses, what happened to yours? It's looking a little bruised," her brow furrowed and her free hand came up to his face, holding him still as she got a closer look.

"Jo sucker punched me."

Hermione turned her eyes to the pretty blonde, assuming she was Jo, and she cocked an eyebrow.

"He broke in," she defended.

"Yeah, that's fair," Hermione agreed with a nod before turning her eyes back to Dean, gently probing at his nose with her thumb whilst he winced in pain. "It's not broken, I'll give you something for the pain later," she told him, giving him a pointed look. She'd heal it later. "I've got to say, you did a nice job."

"Thanks," Jo smiled.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I was hoping you'd be on my side," he all but pouted.

"Why? You broke in," she shrugged.

Ellen and Jo shared a laugh.

"I see, this is a 'women banding together thing', isn't it?"

"No, but when you see a well-aimed punch as good as the one that caused this damage, you've got to compliment the one responsible. I imagine Bobby would be proud if he saw it, too."

"And the kids?" Ellen prompted, nodding towards the car seat in Hermione's hand, of which, she set atop the counter and readjusted the blanket over the tiny redhead.

"Hermione's niece and nephews," Dean shrugged, taking a swig of his beer. "Be grateful there's only three of them here, there's a dozen more back in England, and she has just as many brothers and sisters."

"You love my family and you know," Hermione argued before she sighed when Lily gave a waking cry, her hands and feet kicking out and dislodging the blanket. "She's hungry."

"Again?" Dean questioned. "She was fed two hours ago."

"Weasley genes, they love their food," she replied, digging through the contents of the bag she'd brought with her and removing a bottle before taking Lily from her car seat.

"I'll do it, you've done the last few," he offered, happily taking the little lady from her and settling her in the crook of his arm, allowing Hermione to properly prepare the bottle before she handed it to him, Dean glancing up at Ellen, seeing her surprised expression. "Yeah?"

She cleared her throat. "You're nothing like your father said you were."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Not anymore and I haven't been for a long time," he responded, peering up at Hermione and she smiled down at him, her arm slotting around his shoulders and her side pressing against him.

"Uncle Dean, why's there a dead man on the table?" James' voice drew his attention, the little boy returning from the bathroom with Albus and Sam.

Dean snorted, as did Ellen and Jo. "He's not dead, Buddy. Just sleeping, he drank a little too much beer."

"Oh, like at Christmas when everyone wouldn't wake up and they were very grumpy?"

Sam and Dean shared a laugh and Hermione scowled at them both. "Exactly, he'll be fine," he promised.

"What's your name?" Jo asked, leaning over the counter and looking down at him.

James looked to Hermione and Dean and they both nodded, letting him know it was safe.

"I'm James, I'm six. And this is my brother, Albus, he's four."

"I'm Jo," she smiled, James beaming up at her. "I have something just for you, but you can't tell anyone where you got it from." Disappearing behind the counter, she bent down before reappearing, holding out to bags of Cheetos in offering.

"Thanks," he grinned, taking them from her and giving one to Albus.

"I'll tell you what, why don't you go and sit at that table with your brother," she pointed to one directly behind them, across the room and by the wall, "And I'll bring you a soda over."

James nodded eagerly and took Albus' hand in his before dragging him over to the table she'd pointed out.

"There, now you can talk about this demon business without the kids overhearing, boys that age have no business being involved. I'll keep them busy for you; I think I have some pens and paper in the kitchen."

"Thank you," Hermione smiled gratefully, only for Jo to nod and gave a slight dismissive wave of the hand before she retrieved two glasses, filled them with soda and carried them over to the table, but not before retrieving some paper and pens. "I like her," Hermione decided.

"You would, she punched Dean in the face," Sam remarked. "Though, it still doesn't live up to the sucker punches you gave dad. Nothing will ever beat that, I've never seen the man so surprised."

"Anyway, back to business," Dean interrupted. "So, how could you help our dad?"

~000~000~000~

"Don't look at me like that," Sam scowled, peering over his shoulder at Hermione. "You're the one that said the cursed phrase," he reminded.

"You're the one that just had to ask what was in the damn file," she argued.

"How was I know it was an unsolved case? We had no idea who Ellen Harvelle was, let alone that she's an ex-Hunter that runs a bar _for_ Hunters."

"The place certainly looks the part," she grumbled.

"Alright, enough arguing, if anyone should be in a mood, it's me," Dean intervened. "I mean, look at what I'm driving!"

Hermione and Sam shared a laugh.

"Alright, what are we dealing with?" Hermione reluctantly asked.

"In the last month, several murders have taken place in a town not far from here, but the most recent was last week. The suspect is said to be disguised as a clown from the Cooper Carnival, and the victims were ripped to shreds. There are no viable leads, all alibis for the employees of the carnival check out and the witness, a little girl, claims to have seen a clown...

"Wait," Dean interrupted. "A clown, you say? Oh..." He laughed. "I know what you're thinking, Sammy. Why does it have to be clowns?"

"Give me a break," Sam cut his eyes to him unhappily.

"You didn't think I'd remember, did you? Come on, you still bust out crying when you see Ronald McDonald on the TV," he laughed with Hermione's chuckles mixing in.

"At least I'm not afraid of flying," Sam fired back.

"Planes crash!" Dean argued. "Don't you remember the damn phantom case?"

"And flying is terrifying," Hermione concurred.

"And apparently clowns kill."

"You've never seen IT?" Hermione questioned, Sam glaring at her over his shoulder whilst Dean laughed. "Anyway, you were saying?"

He huffed and faced forwards. "Apparently the clown vanished into thin air, but the police believe she's traumatised by what happened."

"That doesn't sound good," she remarked. "The poor dear."

"There's a record of a similar case that occurred in 1981 but it was during the Bunker Brothers' Circus."

"So if this is a spirit, there's either a body or an object that it's tied to, but the object is usually kept in one place. And if it is a spirit, the only explanation for it being able to move locations is if the object itself is within the carnival," said Dean. "Between Hermione and our EMF gear, we should hopefully be able to pick up a signal."

"Have you ever been to a carnival before?" Hermione looked to him sceptically. "Do you have any idea how big they are? Or of how many people are admitted?"

"She's got a point," Sam agreed. "It'd be like looking for a needle in a haystack. The only chance we'd have is if we're there after hours."

"So we convince them to hire us," Dean shrugged. "Hermione can stay at the motel with the kids and keep them out of trouble, and we'll handle the dangerous side of the job. If this is a spirit that's choosing its victims based on children, the last thing we want is it setting its sight on one of the kids, leading to there being targets on our backs."

"Yeah, that's not good. Harry'll kill us," Sam nodded.

"Forget Harry, it's Ginny I'm worried about."

Hermione sniggered knowingly.

~000~000~000~

"How's everything going?"

"Quiet so far," Dean answered. "Stop worrying."

"You know I worry when I'm not with you. You've gotten so used to my magic that I'm worried you've lowered your guard since meeting me."

"Not enough to put myself in danger."

"We put ourselves in danger every day," she deadpanned.

"That was my attempt of putting you at ease."

"It didn't work."

Dean snorted. "How're the kids?"

"Fine, sleeping like the dead, as usual. I've not long put Lily down, she woke for her bottle. I've never met a baby that consumes as much as she does."

"Probably why she's growing so quickly," Dean commented. He would swear that she'd grown in the few days they'd had her. "Anyway, we should be back in a few hours. Stakeouts are boring," his head dropped back against his seat. "And I'm in a damn minivan."

Hermione laughed. "I packed you some sandwiches, in the bag on the floor behind you."

"This is why you're my favourite," he grinned, reaching over the back of the seat and finding the plastic bag and bringing it to rest in his lap, digging through the contents to see not only a number of wrapped sandwiches but several candy bars, an apple, an orange and two bottles of soda.

"Yes, _that's_ why," she said dryly, Dean practically hearing the roll of her eyes.

"Well, you do make one Hell of a pie."

"I've made more pies in the last two weeks than I have in my life."

"It's not my fault you're so..." Dean paused.

"So what?" She prompted.

"Baby, I gotta go," he muttered, not giving her the chance to respond as he snapped the phone shut. "Sammy!" Dean called, smacking his brother upside the head and startling him awake, but before he could complain and argue, Dean pointed towards the house. "Look, tell me you see that, too."

Sam squinted his eyes, seeing the front door being opened by a young girl before she reached out, her hand seemingly grabbing onto nothing and pulling it into the house.

"Oh fuck," Sam whispered.

They both darted from the minivan, already drawing their weapons before they'd closed the doors.

~000~000~000~

"So you ditched the minivan?" Hermione blinked slowly, trying to process what the brothers had told her.

"We had to, one of them might've seen the license plate," said Sam. "It's bad enough they might be able to identify us. The last thing we need is someone pointing the finger at us. We were only trying to help."

"Well, that's great at all, but how the Hell are we supposed to get around? I mean, I can apparate us to Bobby's, of course, maybe even Ellen's, but for the time being, we've got three kids, are actively involved in a case that might lead trouble to our doorstep and we're trapped here."

"We'll figure something out," Dean promised.

Hermione ran her hands through her hair. "Do we at least know what we're dealing with now?"

"Ellen thinks it might be a rakshasa."

"Never heard of it."

"Us either," Dean nodded.

"I did a little digging, and according to lore, rakshasas are a type of creature within Hinduism. It's said to take on the form of a human in order to feed on human flesh," explained Sam.

Hermione grimaced. "Is anyone else getting sick of cannibalistic creatures?"

"They can appear invisible, and have to be invited into a home."

"Which explains the targeting of children, they're easily manipulated," she added. "So, it's a good thing we did keep the boys away from the carnival, no matter how much they wanted to go."

"We'll take them to the movies later," Dean shrugged. "Anything else, Sammy?"

"Yeah, rakshasas have to feed every twenty to thirty years, and they live in squalor, usually sleeping on a bed of insects."

"Lovely," Hermione shivered.

"Well, that fits within the time frame for the murders in '81," Dean mused. "And if we're looking for a person and not a spirit..." He frowned thoughtfully. "Cooper?"

"The blind guy?" Sam tipped his head.

"Yeah, he's worked for both the carnival and the circus."

"Seems plausible," Sam nodded in agreement. "Now all that's left to do is prove it's him, and take him out."

"How do we do that?"

"A knife made of pure brass."

"Pure brass?" Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah, why?"

"You do realise that brass is an alloy metal made of zinc and copper, right? Which technically means, it can't be pure."

"I hate you sometimes," Sam glowered down at the floor.

"When in doubt, set the bastard on fire. That always seems to work. And why not throw some salt and holy water in the mix, just as a precaution. You know what? Whack a bit of silver in there, too, just for fun."

~000~000~000~

"Thank God that's over," Dean sighed, brushing down his rumpled clothing and checking himself for injuries within the funhouse mirrors. How he appeared to have gotten away injury-free with the amount of knives that had been thrown at him was beyond him. "Let's not tell Hermione about the knives," he suggested.

"What knives?" Sam smiled.

"Good boy," Dean patted Sam's cheek, ignoring Sam's scowl of annoyance as he batted his hands away before dropping the sharp piece of bronze he'd used to kill the rakshasa to the ground.

"As far as I'm concerned, it went off without a hitch. We got the right guy and took him out without a single issue."

"She's not going to believe that," Sam injected. "Nothing ever goes to plan, not even when we've got her magic on our side."

"Fair point," Dean nodded. "Fine, he gave us the runaround, we chased him into the funhouse and managed to get the upper hand."

"Better," Sam nodded.

"Let's get back, I'm hungry."

~000~000~000~

"Wow, boys, I'm impressed," said Ellen, her voice carrying through the speaker as the phone sat on the table with the three Hunters surrounding it. "It's only been two days."

"We're good at what we do," Dean responded with a shrug.

"Evidently," she said dryly. "Well, as promised, Ash has been looking into this demon for you, give me a second... Ash! Wake up!"

"I'm awake!" They heard him call back before his voice grew louder as he took over from Ellen. "So, I've been tracking the demon for the past fifty-one hours," he began and Hermione, Dean and Sam shared a surprised glance. "But I've come up empty. There's been no sightings or mentions of him. So, I've collected all of the data I do have on him and entered it into a track and tracing programme that will alert me to any signs of him appearing above radar. Let's hope he decides to call America his home," he remarked and Hermione snorted. "But the moment I know something, I'll give you a call and let you know."

"Thanks for the help, Ash. I promise, next time we see each other, I'll have a box of brownies."

"Triple chocolate?"

"Triple chocolate," she confirmed.

"I like her, she's a keeper," said Ash before the line went dead.

"So, after all of that, we've still got nothing," Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes.

"Maybe, but now we've got a way of tracking him," Hermione pointed out. "So, what's our next move?"

"For the time being? We take the kids to the movies, grab dinner and get some sleep. We'll head back to Bobby's tomorrow. Can you teleport us?"

"Consider it done, might want to warn him first thought. I wouldn't want to apparate into something I don't want to see."

~000~000~000~

**Two days later...**

They'd had the Potter children a grand total of eight days, and as much as they all loved and adored them, they were ready to see them home. Hermione had everything packed away and after ensuring the boys had eaten all of their lunch and were clean and presentable, they were gathered in the living room by the TV, waiting for their parents.

Dean would like to think their goodbyes to the kids would be a quick wave and a hug before they were whisked away, something simple and calm.

But no, not in Bobby Singer's house.

"Bobby, give her to me," Dean's eyes narrowed on the Hunter stood opposite him, the kitchen table being the only thing keeping them apart.

"No."

"It's my turn to hold her."

"I'm not handing her over," he glowered from beneath his cap.

"She's my niece," Dean argued.

"And it's my house."

Dean hadn't realised he'd drawn his handgun until he felt the cool metal against the palm of his hand and he chanced a glance down at it.

Christ! What had the world come to? They were fighting over a _baby_. He, Dean Winchester, and his second father figure, Bobby Singer, both notoriously bad-ass Hunters, were fighting over a baby.

"Bobby!" Dean's voice was gruff in warning.

"Shoot me, I don't care. You're not taking her from me."

"She's my niece, I haven't had a chance to hold her; you've had her all morning!"

"And you're not getting her now."

"Oh, wow!" They heard a feminine noise of amusement crossed with disbelief and they both turned towards it.

Dean felt his face fell. It was Ginny Potter, and she still appeared to be in her training gear. She'd come straight from work, he realised.

"I told you," Hermione rolled her eyes, stepping out from behind the slightly taller redhead. "They've been like this all morning," she folded her arms over her chest. "Bobby, this is Ginny, Ginny this is Bobby."

"Pleasure to meet you," the redhead greeted happily. They weren't blind to Bobby's gaze darting between her and the tiny redhead in his arms dejectedly. "Of course, Hermione's told me all about you and how big of a softy you are."

Dean scoffed and grumpily folded his arms, his gun still gripped in his hand.

"He's not a softy, he'd a damn hogger."

"Really, Dean? You drew your gun?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"He won't give me Lily! He's had her all morning," he argued. "I want my Lily Petal time before she leaves."

The two witches glanced at one another and shared a laugh.

"Bobby, it's Dean's turn to say goodbye to Lily," said Hermione.

Bobby was very reluctant to hand her over, they could all see it.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd give Lily some time with her favourite Uncle," Ginny added. "I understand that you've welcomed my children into your home and I thank you for that. Should you ever wish to visit London, we'll have a room ready for you."

Bobby peered down at the wriggling baby in his arms, his bottom lip all but jutting out in a sulk as he reluctantly allowed Dean to approach and take her from him.

"I promise, Lily Petal," he muttered softly, rocking her in his arms, "I won't let him steal you from me again."

Hermione snorted.

"Go say goodbye to the boys, I know you'll miss them, too," she encouraged Bobby.

He glanced to Dean and Lily one last time before storming from the kitchen.

"Happy now?" She asked Dean.

"Yes," he said without pause or hesitation, smiling down at Lily when her hand fisted his shirt.

"Okay, as much as I hate to do this as I know how much she loves her Uncle Dean, I best get the children back to London and attempt to get them back into their routine," Ginny interrupted.

Dean reluctantly nodded and after a squeal left the tiny redhead, he passed her into her mother's hold, slipping his hands into pockets as a distraction.

"Thanks for letting them visit."

Ginny smiled up at him. "Of course, they do love spending time with their favourite Aunt and Uncle."

And without warning, Ginny stepped forward and pulled him into a hug, being mindful not to squish Lily between them. When she pulled back, she pressed a kiss to his cheek, her gaze locking with his and it spoke volumes.

"You find the bastard, and you kill him."

And with those words, she turned and left the kitchen.

Hermione lingered a little longer before following the redhead, and once Dean swallowed back the emotions threatening to bubble out of him, he stepped into the living room, seeing the hugs that James and Albus were doling out to Hermione, Sam and Bobby. He soon found himself being hugged around the waist with James and Albus grinning up at him sadly.

"We'll see each other soon," Dean promised.

"And we can go ice skating?"

"Sure, if that's what you want to do."

"Love you, Uncle Dean."

Dean's throat burned and his eyes stung.

"Love you, too, Buddy," he muttered, ruffling the child's dark hair.

"Okay, boys, gather around and hold on tight," Ginny instructed, the children moving over to her and holding onto her robes, whilst their shrunken down luggage was stashed in her pocket. "Say goodbye and thank you to Bobby for letting you stay here."

"Thanks, Bobby, it was awesome," James grinned.

And then they were gone, being whisked away back to London.

Silence reigned for several moments before they all convened in the kitchen, taking seats around the table.

"It's too quiet," Bobby remarked. "I don't like it."

Hermione, Sam and Dean shared an amused glance.

"So, Christmas at the Burrow this year?" She suggested.

"Shut up," he grumbled.

They all laughed, knowing he wouldn't refuse a second time, not now that he'd met the Potter children.

"So, the children are gone, what do we do?" Hermione asked.

"First order of business, fix the Impala," answered Dean. "And from there? Not a clue, but we'll figure it out."

Hermione sighed. "Let the hunt begin."


End file.
